Oasis
by Renaerys
Summary: The world is ravaged by an unknown disease, and the Infected patrol the realm of night hunting survivors. In this hell on earth, three unlikely people forge an alliance out of necessity. One seeks death, one seeks companionship, and one seeks an escape. Kimimaro. Ino. Deidara.
1. The Dead of Night

Oasis, chapter 1: The Dead of Night  
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto  
Rating: T  
World: Armageddon AU

_Let the sky fall  
When it crumbles  
We will stand tall  
And face it all together._

* * *

The thick trunk of a tree she'd been hiding behind only half a second ago exploded in a brilliant wave of splinters, leaves, and burning debris. Ino wondered if the end of her ponytail had been singed in the conflagration, but pushed the thought out of her mind as she concentrated on _getting the hell out of there._

_Two... No, three, _she counted in her head as she jumped over felled trees and boulders. Three flaring chakra signatures gave chase through the dense forest behind her. She hoped they wouldn't throw any more exploding kunai at her. When the ground several feet in front of her erupted in a whirlwind of dirt and mulch, she skidded and attempted a sharp turn to the right. She lost her balance just long enough to stumble and fall. She was back up in a flash, but the lost time would cost her.

_So much for wishing..._

She sensed the blow before it landed and reached for the chakra blades at her sides to block it. Just in time, too, because the enemy would have cleaved her head in half with his scimitar. Ino grunted with the effort of her counterattack, but after a suspended moment of impasse she managed to dart backwards to safety. Feverish eyes leaking blood and pus zeroed in on her while his companions drew up from the sides. Ino wasted no time, her depleted chakra reserves be damned.

"Shinranshin!"

The incoming enemies jerked as her technique overrode their nervous systems and forced them to turn on Ino's original attacker. Together, they impaled him with their swords through the chest. He gurgled, black blood dribbling from his mouth and fresh wound before his swollen body slumped to the ground. The other two snarled and raged, but were helpless to stop themselves as Ino made them turn their blades on each other next—a double kill.

Her shoulders slumped and she steadied herself against a nearby tree, trying to catch her breath and ignore the encroaching pain from chakra exhaustion. Black blood puddled beneath her fallen attackers and spread over the grass, smoking as it merged with the earth. The attackers themselves suffered a number of lacerations across their bodies, cracked and weeping more black blood. They bore no visible hitai-ate, which was almost worse than knowing who she'd just killed. Ino looked away from the grisly scene. Even after all this time she still could not abide the sight of it.

After a moment's rest, she extended her senses in a wide sweep of the area just to make sure there weren't more of them on the way. She detected nothing, but that was no guarantee that there wouldn't be more coming eventually, even if it was getting close to dawn. _They _had a way of tracking their own, living or dead.

_Not that the distinction really matters, _she thought.

Taking a steadying breath, Ino wiped the sweat and grime from her brow and holstered her chakra blades. She set off to the west.

* * *

Under the light of the stars above, he shone like a pearlescent wraith, a ghostly lord descended from on high—or perhaps risen from the depths of hell, in his case. It didn't matter either way; this place was hell now, too. For someone like Kimimaro, who'd danced with demons and carried their mark, he should have felt right at home.

But not like this. Everything about this was wrong. He should have died long ago, released from this debilitating disease and finally at peace. It seemed that his former mentor would not allow him even that much. He clenched a fist and paused in his slow trek through a thinning bosque. No matter how far he travelled or what he saw, he could not seem to outrun his past. It defined him and scarred him. It was all he had left, and he hated that the most.

Telltale whistling was his only warning before he shot a hand out and caught the projectile with practised ease. Bringing it close to his face for closer inspection, pale green eyes narrowed at the offending senbon. These bastards had a tendency to sneak up on him...

"You're not one of them."

Kimimaro lowered the senbon and looked up at the feminine voice. A young woman, perhaps of an age with him, stood several yards away. Her blonde ponytail billowed in the night wind, and she looked worse for wear. When she took a step toward him, he tensed.

"You're not one of them," she said again, the wonderment clear in her tone.

"Neither are you," he said. His own voice sounded cracked and foreign to his ears. It had been ages since he'd last spoken out loud.

This seemed to snap her out of whatever daze she'd been in and she nodded. Again, she approached him. He watched, unsure what to make of this unexpected turn of events. When was the last time he'd seen a person who wasn't one of _them?_

When she drew up only several feet from him, they got a better look at each other. She wore a green flak vest over black and purple combat garb. A ninja, clearly, but he saw no hitai-ate or other mark of affiliation. She was covered in a thin layer of grime and some minor surface abrasions, but nothing serious. He immediately guessed that she was low on chakra, which would explain the hunch in her posture and drooping eyelids. Most striking was the endless blue of her eyes as they absorbed the pale moonlight above.

He promptly turned around and began walking the other way.

"W-Wait!" she called to him.

He stopped and turned to regard her, expression devoid of emotion. "Why?"

Blue eyes blinked, perhaps at a loss for any reasonable explanation. He was about to turn around again when she spoke.

"Please. It's been so long since...since I met anyone who wasn't infected," she stammered. "Just wait, please."

Ah, so she was lonely. Judging by her current condition, she wasn't the type to last long solo. In his experience, kunoichi were never good solo players on the battlefield. Even Tayuya, who'd been decently formidable, was nothing special at the end of the day. She hadn't even been able to put up a fight when he'd decided to kill her.

"Why are you alone?" she asked.

"Why are you?" he shot back.

This seemed to make her angry. "Look, I didn't mean to intrude or anything, but you really have no idea how long I've been looking for someone who's not afflicted_._ I just wanted..." she trailed off.

"I don't have time for this," he said, turning away from her once more.

Kimimaro half expected her to call out to him again, but she didn't. Unperturbed, he continued on his path, back the way he came. It would be dawn in a couple of hours and those _things_ would calm down, so as long as he was careful he should have no problems. After ten minutes of walking, he turned back once—just to make sure that girl hadn't followed him. No one was there.

_Good._

It was only a split second after he turned around to resume his vespertine journey that the attack came. Twin daggers, cross-wielded like scissors, meant to decapitate him in one blow. Unfortunately for his attacker, rusted steel was no match for chakra-enhanced bone. Elongated spikes protruded from Kimimaro's chest, breaking skin and weeping a bit of blood upon their exit. The attacker's blades crunched against bone, and the steel whined before splitting altogether. Not to be deterred, the attacked jumped back and commenced a round of hand seals.

Kimimaro counted five of them in total. All had the same vacant eyes, oozing black wounds, and tattered shinobi garb. Green eyes narrowed slightly at the odds.

_I need to make this swift and clean._

Resolved, he reached for his upper arm. Bone pierced the skin, grinding as he pulled it out slowly but surely. It only took a few moments for his entire humerus to emerge and stiffen into a deadly sharp blade. Crouching low for added momentum, he sprang into action. The five infected shinobi attacked in unison. The ground rumbled with the makings of a nasty earth jutsu, but the pale warrior was undeterred. He jumped with the aid of chakra, narrowly avoiding a giant finger of rock that suddenly burst forth from the earth and reached for the sky.

He brought his arm back and slashed mercilessly at the nearest diseased attacker. His throat opened up and spewed black blood. Kimimaro twisted just enough to avoid getting sprayed. Landing with barely a sound, he wasted no time in launching upwards again and ramming his bone blade into the next nameless enemy, piercing her heart. The attacker sputtered and sank to his knees. Kimimaro noticed that she wore a Mist hitai-ate, but thought little of it. To him, they were all as good as dead anyway.

The remaining three took his moment of stillness to jump him. One sent a razor sharp gust of wind after him, which he leapt out of the way to avoid. The other two were waiting for him, striking with a spear and a katana just as he landed. Kimimaro managed to release bones all over his body in time to block the katana, but the spear gouged his shoulder and caused him to take a compensating step backward. He gritted his teeth and reached for the spear, tugging it and its wielder along with it. Using the enhanced strength inherited from his dead clan, he flung the spear wielder at the one holding the katana, sending them both crashing into the ground. With his good hand, Kimimaro pointed his fingers at the pair and released a barrage of bone bullets. They fell still almost instantly.

Several breaths passed as he surveyed the damage briefly. Unbidden, his lungs chose that time to act up and a coughing spasm barrelled into him with the force of a stampede. Kimimaro sank to one knee and tried to muffle the sound with a hand. Pain bloomed in his chest, and he willed the attack to pass. The hand covering his mouth suddenly felt wet and warm with blood, but he could do nothing about it. Not caring that his shoulder was injured, he leaned some of his weight on his wounded arm and ignored the pain.

Finally, after several minutes of torture, the coughing subsided. A little reluctantly, he raised up his hand and examined the bright red sheen covering his palm and fingers. A grimace twisted his features at the sight, and he immediately wiped the mess on the grass. Moonlight made it shine, as though phosphorescent.

_There's no honor in this, _he thought to himself.

"_Behind you!"_

A few things happened in that moment. He heard the foreign voice in his head—_yes, that's not my voice—_and then he registered the warning. A slight rush of wind behind him confirmed it. Without even thinking, Kimimaro spun on his heel and thrust out a hand, the radius extending out of his palm in a cruel point. The incoming enemy staggered, impaled by the bone as empty, glazed eyes stared back at him, unseeing. Had his throat not been raw from his earlier coughing fit, Kimimaro may have made an audible sound of disgust as he detached himself from his bone spike and stepped carefully away from the corpse. Shortly thereafter, the sound of running footsteps drew his attention. It was that girl again.

"You're all right," she said, drawing up next to him. "I wasn't sure if you'd hear me in time."

Icy green eyes studied her, suspicious. "Hear you?"

She inclined her head as if to see him better, her expression guarded. "I have the ability to communicate telepathically. I sensed that last one closing in separately from the others and warned you when it didn't look like you were going to react."

Kimimaro honestly did not know how to respond to that. What she was saying was absurd. He'd never heard of anyone, shinobi or otherwise, with such an ability. He narrowed his eyes at her. There was only one way to find out.

"_You're saying you can hear everything I'm thinking," _he thought to himself.

"_Yes, essentially."_

They watched each other under the light of the moon for a long time, sizing each other up. With the state of world, he supposed this should not have been surprising. It did not escape Kimimaro's notice that her eyes zeroed in on his shoulder injury. It was no matter; he was sure he could easily overpower her if she tried to attack him. He'd been through far worse and made it out mostly intact before.

"You're injured."

"Why did you follow me?" he said, ignoring her rather obvious observation.

"I wasn't exactly following you; I was originally going this way too."

"Well then," Kimimaro said, turning away from her. "Don't let me stop you." He began to walk again.

"Wait!" She ran around him and cut off his escape. "Where are you going?"

He was beginning to grow irritated. "That's none of your business."

It seemed that she was growing irritated as well. "Look, you obviously know what it's like out there," she said, gesturing the world around them. "Those things... The 'Infected'... That's what we started calling them. Out here with no cover, we're sitting ducks. That was only a scouting group, but the larger forces wander in packs of hundreds, maybe more. They're not something one person can handle alone."

"Then I hope for your sake that you don't encounter a pack," he said dismissively before attempting to sidestep her.

She moved to cut him off once more. "I could say the same for you. In fact, it's in both our interests to travel together. Two shinobi are better than one."

He wasn't exactly surprised that she'd suggested this. Someone like her, a kunoichi probably too weak to fight off those creatures alone, would inevitably seek strong allies. The last thing he needed was baggage tagging along. In any case, he preferred solitude these days. "I don't think so."

He tried to move past her again, and again she blocked him. Fed up with this, Kimimaro lifted a hand between them, making sure he had her attention, then slowly forced out a fresh bone blade. Her blue eyes widened in apprehension and fear, but she remained steadfastly rooted to the spot. Blinking, she returned her gaze to his.

"I know what you're thinking. You think that I'm unfit as a shinobi, that I'll be a burden."

"I already know you can read minds; there's no need to prove that again," he said unkindly.

She ignored the slight. "Well, you're wrong. My clan specializes in mind manipulation. I can control sentient beings, which is great when large groups of the Infected attack. I'm also trained as a medic nin," she added, indicating his wounded shoulder. "That kind of injury is a piece of cake for me."

Kimimaro frowned. She seemed hell bent on getting him to give in. Still, none of this really mattered to him. He was more than capable of taking care of himself. His misery wanted no company.

"Not interested." He pushed his hand and, consequently, the sharp bone it bore, forward for emphasis.

"W-Wait," she said. "I... I'm an excellent sensor type, so I know where they are and where they're coming from. That's not something most shinobi can do."

At this Kimimaro paused and surveyed her once more. A sensor type? He supposed he could believe it if she'd noticed that last enemy when he hadn't. Then again, maybe she'd just seen him with her eyes alone. He'd had his back turned, which was why he hadn't noticed until it was almost too late.

_You wouldn't have noticed at all if she hadn't intervened, _a small voice taunted him from the back of his mind.

"You can sense them," he said slowly.

Her eyes brightened a little at his show of interest. "Yes, absolutely. I can tell their numbers and proximity from miles away."

He thought about this for a moment. To be able to tell where the Infected were, their strength, and in what direction they were headed would be an invaluable advantage to have. He found himself believing her proclamation; there was no way she would have made it this long without such a useful ability. It would be so easy for him to turn her away and wander unwittingly into an army of the Infected. The end would come for him then, but it would be a vile way to go. Great shinobi were meant to die in the throes of combat, fighting to the death with their best moves and falling against a worthy opponent. If he had no future left to him, at least he could die with dignity.

"All right," he said, withdrawing his bone blade. "But don't expect me to act as your guardian."

She looked torn between relief that he'd relented and anger at his blatant underestimation. "Fine, but the same goes for you."

He just looked at her like she was crazy. Okay, obviously she didn't know who he was or what he was capable of, but she could not honestly think that he would need to rely on her for protection, right? He was about to say something to that when she spoke again.

"I'm Ino, by the way."

"Ino," he repeated. Deciding that was probably enough of an introduction, he started to make his way past her once more. Whatever she thought about him didn't matter at all anyway. He wouldn't concern himself with her other than to gauge their surroundings.

"You haven't told me your name," she said, falling into step beside him.

He spared her a glance out of the corner of his eye. She stared straight ahead, her expression hard and steely. The sudden difference in her struck him, as though she was hiding something. After a moment he returned his focus to the path ahead of them. Behind them, the sun was beginning to peek out over the eastern horizon. Another night had ended, but the threat of ambush and disembowelment by the Infected would not abate even in the coming morning. Not completely, at least.

"Kimimaro," he said finally.

"Kimimaro," she repeated, the same way he'd repeated her name previously. "Let's find a place to take cover for tonight."

Stealing another discreet glance at her, he found himself thinking how out of place she was walking next to him. After so many weeks of wandering alone and in silence with only the Infected to keep him company whenever they decided to jump him, he'd all but given up on the idea that there were any survivors. And yet, here they were.

"Yeah," he finally said.

They didn't speak again as the sun illuminated the path before them, and they left the dead of night behind.

* * *

_Reviews are love, and I love getting them! :)_


	2. Two's Company

Oasis, chapter 2: Two's Company

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

* * *

It was about mid-morning by the time Kimimaro and Ino made it to a town, or what was left of it. Dilapidated houses—_ruins_—peppered the landscape. The sun was almost directly above the pair as they slowly made their way down a dirt road. Silence was all that awaited them. Ino repressed the urge to shiver despite the heat.

Things had only become like this a mere five or six weeks ago. It started with a couple of cases here and there. People complained about festering wounds appearing for seemingly no reason. Civilian doctors and healers could do nothing for the ailing. Medical ninja could seal the wounds, but they inevitably opened up again later.

Ino remembered how baffled Sakura had been by the first case they saw. Wounds were not supposed to reopen on their own like that. They also weren't supposed to bleed black instead of red. And then those afflicted descended into terrifying madness only to bounce back as _not themselves. _That was when they realized they were up against something far more insidious than they'd ever imagined.

"There."

Ino turned at the sound of her traveling partner's voice. He had turned toward a squat stone house down a side street, the only living quarters around that still retained a sturdy structure. She jogged after him but maintained a respectable distance. If there was one thing she'd learned about Kimimaro right away, it was that he liked his personal space. That was just fine with Ino, who was still unsure whether striking up an alliance with him was evidence of her lunacy or genius. She didn't know the first thing about him, other than the fact that he was very clearly a formidable shinobi judging from his chakra levels. He must be A- or S-rank, she thought.

_And he seems to have excellent control over his skeleton._

She decided she'd have to ask him about that at some point.

After Kimimaro tried the door, which happened to be unlocked, they stepped over the threshold and entered the building. It was nothing to write home about. There was a modest kitchenette with a gas stove and deep basin sink, as well as a small table that folded out of the wall. Kimimaro bypassed all of that in favor of checking a nearby door and disappearing through it. Ino let him go and poked her head around the far wall. The other room was probably a living room at some point, but the couch was slashed as if by a wild animal, and the television set was smashed to pieces. The far wall bore an old blood stain that sank down the wall and puddled on the floor before stretching across the room, as though the victim had been forcibly dragged out. Flies buzzed around the tarnished area. The Infected had already been here.

_Let's just hope they won't come back._

She sensed Kimimaro walking up behind her and turned. He looked between her and the state of the living room, then back at her. His frosty green eyes remained blank despite the evidence of a grisly murder.

"The basement wasn't affected by what happened here. It should hold at night."

_Night is when they're most active._

It was the same for all those afflicted. First came the oozing gashes, then the seizures, and finally the descent into madness. After that, the person who used to be a friend or a loved one turned into a machine with one purpose only: kill the healthy. They were like unfeeling golems, largely crepuscular in their habits and immune to physical pain. They grew somewhat dormant during the day, but a loud sound or a whiff downwind roused and attracted them like flies to carrion. Worst of all, the Infected retained all the skills possessed of them in their healthy states. Ino averted her gaze at the memory of the Godaime Hokage decimating their makeshift medical camp with her super strength, lost to the fever dreams of illness.

"Good," she said softly, pushing the thought to the darkest recesses of her mind. "I'll just get cleaned up for now. Excuse me."

Kimimaro said nothing as she passed him to make her way downstairs.

* * *

The basement of the small house was surprisingly intact given the state of the world. Its walls were made entirely of stone, with one window near the top of a wall barely big enough for a person to squeeze through. Ino decided to remove the screens in case they had to make an impromptu escape. There was only one bedroom and a small connecting bathroom, the latter of which was barely large enough for one person. Ino didn't care at all; she'd lived through far worse running for her life for the past couple of weeks. Compared to that, this looked like a little bit of heaven.

The water was freezing, but that was to be expected. She barely felt it after the first minute, more concerned with scrubbing herself clean. She was overjoyed to find the bare essentials in the small shower, and didn't even mind that the bar of soap looked like it had been sitting there for months collecting dust. Once finished, Ino dried herself with a spare towel she'd found under the sink, wrapped it around herself, and exited the bathroom.

Much to her surprise, Kimimaro was standing directly on the other side of the door. Ino nearly ran into him and gasped. "What— Why are you standing there?"

Kimimaro peered down at her. "You should have sensed that I was here."

Ino frowned, her surprise now morphing into slight frustration. "Well, it's not like I was thinking about tracing your location in the shower."

There was a moment of silence as they stared each other down. The seconds ticked by, and Ino felt her usual confidence faltering under his penetrating stare. Maybe it was the way his eyes were the palest shade of green she'd ever seen. More than likely, it was the fact that she was clad only in a towel barely long enough to cover her up, and her sopping hair was dripping cold water around her feet.

"Are you finished?" he said, indicating the bathroom and snapping them out of their mini staring contest.

"It's all yours," she said, stepping aside to let him pass. "There are more towels under the sink."

He didn't acknowledge her words as he locked himself in the bathroom and left her alone. Ino shook her head. How was it possible to feel terrified and safe around him at the same time? She stared at the closed bathroom door. The man on the other side of it was a total stranger, and yet here they were taking turns with the bathroom like two friends on a road trip. Whatever his deal was, she'd try to find out after she put some clothes on.

Ten minutes later, Ino was dressed in an oversized Jounin shirt and a spare pair of fitted shorts. She decided to keep her boots on given the questionable state of cleanliness of the floor. The door to the bathroom opened as she was sitting on the bed combing through her hair, and Kimimaro emerged with only a towel around his waist. Ino could not help but let her eyes linger on his figure for a moment. Before he'd been travel weary, but now that the thin layer of dirt and dust had been washed away she saw him in a different light.

He was, in a word, masculine despite his soft, pale coloring. Or maybe the contrast served to accentuate it. Everything about him was the picture of a seasoned warrior, from the subtly defined muscles to the angular cut of his facial features. His hair was a soft shade of white, long for a man's, and red facial markings stood out in stark contrast to his light coloring. Perhaps a genetic trait? They reminded her of Kiba's facial markings, but as soon as she thought of her old friend she could not get the image of him slashing at her with bloody claws and fangs, all but deaf to her pleas. She let her eyes fall from Kimimaro, suddenly unable to appreciate the sight when her mind was filled with thoughts too dangerous to dwell on right now.

He watched her as she averted her eyes, thinking that it was the second time she'd done that now. He didn't particularly care, but it was clear that she was reminded of an unpleasant memory. Given the state of the world, it was not difficult to imagine what that memory might involve. Shrugging it off, he paced toward his pack and rummaged about for a spare pair of pants. Ino, noticing that he was getting ready to change, gave him her back to allow him some privacy. If he was averse to physical proximity, she figured that he'd be the type to value his privacy, too. She busied herself detangling her hair, wishing for a comb.

"I want you to do a scan every hour," his voice floated to her.

Ino turned to see that he'd changed into a clean pair of pants but no shirt. She nodded. "Okay."

Silence fell as they continued to look each other over, and Ino wondered why he wasn't putting on a shirt. Suddenly, her eyes caught the wound on his shoulder. It wasn't bleeding and he'd likely cleaned it up in the shower, but even from here she could tell that it was swollen and would become infected without proper treatment. She swallowed.

"I can heal that," she said, indicating the injury.

Kimimaro blinked slowly, like he was taking his time digesting her meaning, but said nothing.

"I'm not going to try anything," she added, realizing that of course he wouldn't trust her to use her chakra on him. "It wouldn't make sense for me attack an ally."

After a moment's hesitation, he walked to the bed and sat down next to her, leaving a respectable two feet between them. Maybe it was that he honestly believed her words, or maybe he simply saw the logic in them. Ino concluded that it was likely the latter. Judging from what little she knew about him, he seemed more the type to think in terms of cold strategy and trust no one. His tense body screamed wariness, and she knew that if she spooked him now it might lead to painful consequences, nevermind that she meant him no harm.

But Ino knew how to deal with people. She wasn't specifically chosen to train with Morino Ibiki in torture and interrogation for no reason, after all. Tucking a leg under herself and turning fully toward Kimimaro, Ino was careful to keep her expression neutral and make no sudden movements. "This is what's going to happen," she began softly. "I'll disinfect the wound to ward off infection, and then I'll use chakra to seal it. Depending on the damage, I may have to bandage it too. Does that sound good?"

He took his time answering. "Fine."

Ino nodded. "I'll just get the disinfectant." She went to retrieve her pack, and rummaged about until she located the desired bottle, some cotton swabs, and fresh bandages. Armed appropriately, she returned to her position on the bed across from Kimimaro, but made sure to scoot closer to him. He watched her like a hawk, most likely bothered by the sudden invasion of his personal space, but they both knew this wasn't going to work unless she had proper access to him. She set to work immediately, wondering what she could say to take his mind off their proximity.

"So, you can manipulate your bones and turn them into weapons. Is that a bloodline limit?"

Ino didn't look up from her work, but she could feel his eyes on her in the ensuing silence. Maybe he didn't want to tell her? She supposed she wouldn't blame him for not wanting to talk about what was clearly his secret weapon, but she was curious. Just when she thought he wouldn't respond, he did.

"Yes."

_One word answers. I guess that's a start._

"Does it hurt?" She looked up at him. "I mean, when you pull them out."

Ino had always prided herself on her ability to read people. Most were easy, but skilled shinobi had a tendency to keep their emotions in check. It was tempting to initiate a mental connection and get a peek at his thoughts, but she refrained. He wasn't some prisoner to be interrogated.

"Every time," he said finally.

"Every time," she repeated, the implications dawning on her. What a cruel technique. She realized something then. "You didn't retain any injury from using it the last time though. Are you able to heal yourself?"

Was that the barest hint of _surprise _in those frigid eyes? Perhaps he had not been expecting her to make that deduction.

"...Yes, but it's involuntary."

_Meaning he can't use it for something like this. _

She wondered how that was possible but decided not to pry. "Okay, I'm finished disinfecting it. I'll use my chakra to heal the damage as much as possible now."

He said nothing, so she took that as the okay to proceed. Lifting a glowing green palm to his shoulder, Ino began the meticulous process of sealing the wound. It could have been a lot worse than it was, she mused. The cut had severed a tendon, which would be annoying to stitch back together, but it was a clean cut. He was lucky.

"Can you hear what I'm thinking now?"

Ino met his eyes once more. "No. I have to instigate a telepathic connection first, and even then I can't necessarily discern every thought that passes through your mind." She returned her attention to healing him for a moment before adding, "It's not as though I can steal your thoughts like this."

"Like this," he repeated.

Ino smirked inwardly. He was sharp. "I was a torture and interrogation specialist before...all this," she said, unsure how to phrase it another way that wasn't gruesome or tragic. "I can forcibly extract information from prisoners."

"I see."

It was amazing to her that he kept his voice virtually free of intonation. It was like he had no opinion about anything at all. Most people found it fascinating or creepy, sometimes downright horrifying when she told them about her clan's special techniques, but he seemed not to care one way or the other. She didn't think much of it, but in the back of her mind a red flag went up. Those types usually had something to hide.

"There, all done," she announced.

Kimimaro took the opportunity to examine his shoulder. All that was left was a tender scar where the spear had stabbed him. Ino reached for the bandages.

"I'll just wrap it up so that it isn't disturbed. It'll be tender for a couple of days, so be careful about not jerking your arm around too much for now."

Ino leaned into him a bit to reach around his shoulder and bandage him properly. He smelled of soap, probably the same scent as her since they'd cleaned up in the same place. It reminded her of better days somehow, when she was surrounded by friends and allies. But that was another life, another time. Those people were gone, mere memories now. For all Ino knew, she and Kimimaro may be among the last unaffected people on the continent, maybe even the only ones left. It was a depressing thought.

She clipped the bandage so that it would stay and made to pull away, but something she hadn't noticed before caught her eye. Just below his collarbone lay a mark of some sort. It looked a bit like a triple bladed pinwheel, small but striking, making her wonder why she'd overlooked it before. "What's that?" she asked, reaching out to touch it with her fingertips.

Before she knew what had hit her, Ino found herself pinned unceremoniously to the bed. Kimimaro hovered above her, his hands restraining her wrists in a vice-like grip stronger than any she'd ever felt before, inhuman even. Astonished blue eyes found his, and her fear spiked. Where before his eyes held nothing, now they boiled with anger.

"If you value your life, don't overstep your boundaries," he hissed.

Mind racing, Ino searched for her voice. He was _livid, _and for seemingly no reason at all. What on earth had she done to set him off? All she did was ask about the tattoo on his chest...

_That must be it._

How she was capable of rational thought when Kimimaro's killer intent was rolling off him in nearly palpable waves was beyond her. She was starting to think that allying with him had in fact been an act of desperation that proved her insanity. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

Unbelievably, his grip on her wrists tightened even more, and Ino had to bite her lip to suppress a yelp of pain. Their faces were mere inches apart and their position would have seemed intimate under any other circumstances, but right now Ino was counting the seconds before he decided to gut her with his clavicle.

"Kimimaro... Y-You're hurting me," she managed.

He didn't seem to find this prospect alarming because he continued to gorgonize her as though she were the incarnation of his vilest nightmares. There was nothing left for it, she decided. If he wasn't going to release her, then she would force him with her jutsu. Just as she was mustering some of her recovering chakra to do just that, Kimimaro's body began to convulse and he grimaced. In a flash he was off her and doubled over on the floor, coughing violently.

Ino was so surprised by the sudden change in position that she remained frozen in place for a full breath before immediately cradling her aching wrists. The sound of Kimimaro's continued coughing drew her attention, and she sat up. Any thoughts that it might be just a passing spasm evaporated when she realized that he wasn't stopping. She watched, transfixed, as his crouched form shook uncontrollably with each ejection. He looked like he was in a great deal of pain. Then, as suddenly as it had come, he wheezed and the coughing ceased. The hand he'd used to cover his mouth was covered in bright red blood, and it was dripping onto the stone floor.

Ino felt her eyes widen, the pain in her wrists forgotten as she took in the sight before her. Kimimaro's breathing was labored, almost rattling, and his eyes were squeezed shut. Aside from his breathing, the only other sound in the room was that of the blood dripping off his palm. Finally, he managed to stand. Without bothering to look at her, he grabbed a clean shirt from his pack and swiftly marched upstairs, slamming the door behind him.

Ino stayed like that, petrified on the spot, for several seconds. It was only when a twisting pain began to bloom in her chest that she realized she'd been holding her breath. Blinking as she sucked in air, she idly began to rub her abused wrists. She decided not to heal them for now in case she needed her chakra later. There was no telling what might happen when he returned, and she was not about to be unprepared with no chakra.

Blue eyes flickered to the stairwell where he'd disappeared. For the umpteenth time since they'd met, Ino seriously doubted her decision to travel with him, end of the world or not.


	3. Armistice

Oasis, chapter 3: Armistice  
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

* * *

Kimimaro traversed the edge of their hideout seven times over, just to make sure that there were no Infected in the area. Not that he would be able to sense them far beyond his range of vision, of course; that was what Ino was for.

He scowled at the thought of his blonde companion. He'd gotten out of their base as quickly as possible after she'd violated his privacy. Could she possibly know what she'd stumbled upon? He wasn't willing to stick around to confirm it, so he hightailed it out of there.

Wind blew dust down the street as Kimimaro walked, unperturbed by the disturbance. What did it matter, anyway? It was none of her business, and there was nothing that could be done besides. Kabuto had already tried everything.

"Useless," he grumbled as he wended his way through the thick trees of the forest beyond the small village.

A snapping sound made him still suddenly, suspicious. Green eyes shifted to and fro, straining in the afternoon light to discern the shadow pattern in the forest from anything moving. After a moment a small rabbit appeared, beady black eyes watching him warily. Kimimaro stared it down, inwardly amazed to find another uninfected lifeform. For weeks all he'd encountered were the Infected. This world was mired in death in a way that was even more hopeless than it had been before the outbreak. He curled his upper lip and took a loud rustling step, effectively scaring the rabbit and forcing it to flee the scene.

But even in this hell on earth, it seemed he wasn't truly alone.

_Who knows how she made it this long._

Was it just the two of them now? And if so, what kind of life could they expect ahead of them, if any? He wanted to leave her, he decided. After the incident in the basement, it would only be a matter of time before she found out the truth. It would be better for everyone if he simply reneged on their shaky alliance and disappeared. She would be none the wiser, and he could be free to pursue his goal unperturbed and unburdened.

With a heavy sigh, Kimimaro trudged deeper into the forest.

* * *

It was late afternoon, and yet another hourly scan detected no one in the area other than herself. Ino had taken it upon herself to set up traps around the small house to alert her to intrusions, just in case the Infected wandered near. As far as she could tell, there was no one around for many miles. It was probably safe here for the time being. She'd even wandered into the town and raided what was left of the grocery store, which was sadly not much. All they had for passably edible food was canned beans, a few other non-perishables, and stale pasta. Well, Ino had never been a picky eater growing up with Akimichi Chouji, the human disposal. She bit her lip at the memory of her fallen friend.

_I miss them so much._

Chouji had last been seen holding off a horde of Infected all on his own to protect Shikamaru and her. It was the hardest thing she'd ever done, leaving him. Losing Asuma to Akatsuki was bad enough, but losing Chouji made her feel like she'd died with him, leaving only a shell of a girl where once Yamanaka Ino walked proudly. And Shikamaru left her too, to search for Temari. It was supposed to be a brief separation, and they'd meet at a designated place in twenty-four hours, but he never showed up. She understood, since her best friend loved the Sand kunoichi with all his heart, but parting from him wasn't easy, and now she feared the worst. Was he still alive somewhere? Had he fallen to this insidious illness like all the others?

_I'm alone in this world. _Ino couldn't bring herself to say it aloud, for fear that it would make the words irrevocably true. She had to hold onto hope; it was all she had left.

Kimimaro had not returned, and it was already nearing twilight. She began to worry about him when a thought hit her: maybe he wasn't coming back. Maybe this morning had been the end of the line for him, and now he'd abandoned her. Ino really didn't want to believe that, but she couldn't eliminate the real possibility.

He was sick, that much was obvious. One look at the coughed-up blood on his hand and she immediately thought 'terminal illness'. Tuberculosis? Perhaps, but there were plenty of heinous illnesses of which bloody lungs were a symptom. Whatever it was, Ino would not know for sure unless she had a chance to examine him first-hand, which was unlikely at the moment, to say the least. Even if he did come back, the chances that he'd let her get close to him again were virtually zero.

Why? What was so aggravating about a tattoo? Ino pictured the triple-bladed windmill tattoo on his chest. It was nothing special or ostentatious, she thought. What was the big deal? Unless it had personal significance. Maybe it symbolized a tragic memory? She frowned.

_Why would he try to kill me over some tattoo?_

He _had_ nearly tried to killed her, she realized. It would have been all too easy for him to slice and dice her with a few choice ribs had he so chosen. And maybe he would have if not for the inadvertent coughing fit. The thought that he would kill her like that with virtually no warning made her very uncomfortable. Didn't he care that they might be the only normal people left in the world?

But what if that tattoo wasn't actually a tattoo? What if it was something else? Something...

"This is ridiculous," Ino scolded herself.

Whatever it was, she was willing to bet money that she wouldn't find out even if he did return, and he probably wouldn't at this rate. The sun was fast setting, and Ino found herself alone in the small basement with only her traps for protection. Night would be setting in soon, and the Infected would awaken once more to roam the earth searching for healthy victims to attack. Would they find her here? Her hourly sensing told her that the chances were remote, but she'd been ambushed more than once before. There was really no telling.

The room grew dimmer, and Ino found herself growing restless sitting on the lone bed. She bit her lip. Maybe a walk would do her some good? Just some pacing about the house, of course. There was no way she was going outside in the dark...

Resolved, she stood up off the bed and walked purposefully to the stairs. Just before she took the first step, a creaking sound made her freeze.

_Shit._

Where they here? How many would she have to fight off? Just as she was about to extend her senses to get a headcount and back away toward the only window in the room, the door swung open and a newly familiar chakra signature hit her.

_Kimimaro._

The shinobi in question walked casually down the stairs, barely sparing her a glance. Ino reflexively tensed, ready for any possible attack or other hostile action, but it never came. He simply walked past her into the room. Not having expecting passivity, Ino turned toward her would-be comrade and swallowed. He looked a bit weather-worn, as though he'd been hiking outside all day. Where had he gone? She didn't detect any injuries, so perhaps he hadn't run into any Infected.

"...Are you hungry? There's food on the stove upstairs," she found herself saying.

For the first time since he'd directed his freezing killer intent on her earlier that morning, icy green eyes locked onto hers. Ino clenched her fists.

"It's not five star cuisine, but it's edible."

Kimimaro just stared at her for a long while, and Ino was suddenly reminded of Uchiha Sasuke, the boy she'd had a crush on so many years ago. They had the same tired look about them, she thought, like they'd seen so much more than one person should ever see in his life. For all her gifts, Ino wished she knew what Kimimaro was thinking right then.

"I'm not hungry."

"Oh."

Silence descended for several minutes, and Ino wondered if this was awkward. Was he angry with her? Why had he come back? She certainly wasn't expecting him to. Before she could continue that train of thought, Kimimaro interrupted her.

"Did you sense anything?"

Ino kept her expression carefully guarded. "No, nothing all day."

He nodded, seemingly satisfied with this answer. "We'll rest here for a few days. There's nothing around here for miles, so we'll need to be fully recuperated before setting off again."

Ino's eyes widened. What was going on? It was like nothing had changed between them, but she wasn't upset about that. On the contrary, she was inexplicably relieved that he was back; she didn't know what she would do if she had to solo it again at this point. But still.

"I'm sorry," she said. "About earlier. I didn't mean..."

He stared her down as she trailed off, effectively arresting her train of thought. For someone who was obviously ill, he sure as hell didn't look it. "Forget it."

"Kimimaro, I—"

"I said drop it," he snapped. "Forget what you saw."

Ino had never been the type to let others boss her around. She was a supporter, but not a follower. Yet with Kimimaro, as with people like Ibiki, she found that she could never bring herself to usurp the air of authority he carried. She didn't want to; he was clearly a leader, and a natural one at that. She'd learned to defer to Shikamaru when it became clear that he was the better strategist of the two of them despite her more flexible personality and skills. Kimimaro was not someone she could hope to persuade without immense effort, she realized. He expected her to play a certain role, to listen to him. And in this apocalyptic world, Ino was okay deferring to the only other living person she'd met in weeks on this point. She didn't want to push him away.

"Okay."

He peered at her for a moment, as though he wasn't sure whether or not to believe her, but in the end he broke their gaze and disappeared through the bathroom door. It wasn't until the sound of the shower met her ears that Ino visibly relaxed.

_He didn't leave._

That fact alone was enough for her to believe that siding with him had been a good decision after all. He may be a little scary and have some serious privacy issues, but he was real and alive and with her. Despite an obviously uncomfortable situation, he'd come back. She wasn't alone, and it seemed that wasn't about to change any time soon.

Ino pulled off her boots and crawled into the bed, which was barely big enough for two people. She scooted all the way to the wall and curled up on her side, her long blonde hair splayed behind her over the covers. After a few minutes, the shower turned off and Kimimaro emerged, clean once more. Rustling sounds reached her ears, and Ino figured he must be drying off and getting dressed. They stopped after a moment, and she turned to peek at him.

"Do another scan."

Ino complied, figuring that another hour must have passed since her last one anyway. The results were the same. "There's nothing around for miles. We're safe."

He rubbed his eyes, damp hair dripping onto the dusty wooden floor and moistening the shoulders of his shirt. Pale moonlight made him almost glow, specter-like. In that moment, Ino had the most uncanny sensation that something had brought them together, like gravity or magnetism.

But not fate. She didn't believe in fate anymore.

"This bed's big enough for both of us," she said, mindful of his reaction.

He watched her watching him from her prostrate position on the bed, her lower half swathed in a thin sheet. The summer night was balmy and virtually windless. He seemed to be hesitating.

"I put up traps around the perimeter," Ino added. "And there's nothing around here but us." After a moment she added, "I'm not a cover hog."

He blinked, the expression on his face softening enough to make him look a little more his age. Did he find that last part funny? Wordlessly, Kimimaro closed the distance to the bed and settled in beside her under the sheet, the thicker comforter bunched up at their feet, unneeded in this heat. A scant few inches of empty space separated them as they showed each other their backs. Even so, Ino could feel his warmth encroaching upon her side of the bed. It would have been uncomfortable in the thick swelter of summer, but right now it lent her more comfort than she'd felt in a long time. She took a deep breath and released it.

"Goodnight, Kimimaro," she whispered.

He shifted ever so slightly beside her, never touching but reminding her that she was not totally alone in this hopeless dystopia.

"...Goodnight, Ino."

* * *

The next morning, Kimimaro awoke feeling only slightly better than he had in weeks. His disease graciously decided to rouse him with a violent coughing spasm only once. It woke Ino, he knew, but she'd refrained from saying anything. He would have been grateful, but he already ordered her to forget the ordeal, so he was merely satisfied that she knew how to listen. He took to keeping watch afterward, eyes drawn to the wandering moon in the sky through the lone basement window. Sleep must have caught up to him at some point, because the sun was up and he was currently the sole occupant of the bed.

He hadn't even detected Ino getting up. This bothered him immensely.

Casting about for his sandals, Kimimaro swiftly rose from the bed and made his way to the bathroom, where he washed the sleep from his eyes. He reemerged into the living area and strained his hearing, but only silence greeted him. Ino must be out somewhere, but clearly she hadn't thought it necessary to wake or inform him of such. It was her own fault if she ran into trouble, he thought, giving the topic not another second of his time.

There were more important matters at hand, like procuring food. He'd gone most of the day before without sustenance and remembered the blonde telling him there was food in the kitchen. After about fifteen minutes of rummaging about the dingy kitchen, Kimimaro was fed and ready to start the day. He stepped outside, the morning sun greeting him with warm rays. The road was shadowed under squat buildings half falling apart from whatever previous skirmishes had taken place here between the Infected and the healthy. It was a ghost town, but this didn't perturb the silent shinobi as he walked slowly down the street.

Having taken to the forest the day before, he hadn't had any time to explore the town itself. Most of the buildings were residential, or had been at some point before the Infected blasted through walls and tore families apart. It was a civilian establishment judging by the layout. Kimimaro had taken care to avoid shinobi locales on his wanderings lest he be recognized by whatever healthy people remained or surrounded by the Infected. He wasn't sure which would be a more unpalatable end, especially considering that those who would recognize him on sight included people like Kabuto.

With any luck, the mad medic was long dead. Luck, however, had never been a friend to Kimimaro. He wouldn't hold his breath.

A restaurant with a shattered glass display passed him by, as well as several shops that had once been local businesses. All looked to be the victims of a raid, though Kimimaro suspected that most of the wares were probably still around. The Infected didn't seem to require nourishment or things like money and supplies. Pale eyes searched left and right for the right shop, but he didn't pick up his pace. There was no hurry, and it was quiet. Safe.

His destination was on a corner, its front door hanging precariously on a single hinge. A wooden sign that read 'Pharmacy' creaked against its metal hangings, weathered and grimy. Over the battered door hung a tarnished welcome bell tinkling in the light breeze, the sound deceptively louder than it was in this silent wasteland. Kimimaro peered through the open doorway into the shadowy interior, then looked up and down the street once more. Nothing moved. He was alone.

_Good._

He stepped over the threshold without a sound, the silence ingrained within him from a young age his ever-faithful ally. Inside, the small pharmacy was a mess. Shelves were tipped over, their wares strewn haphazardly about the dusty floor. He nearly stepped on a tube of vaseline but caught himself at the last moment. Looking around at the limited supplies scattered about, it was clear that this place had been visited by survivors at least once after the initial raid here. But there was no way to tell how much time had passed between then and now, or if those survivors were still out there surviving.

Kimimaro bypassed the miscellaneous products and made a beeline for the medication counter, behind which lay a room where all the prescription drugs were kept. The back room was in a state of similar disarray, making him purse his lips in mild irritation. The disorder would force him to wade through everything to find what he was looking for. Sighing, he bent down and began rifling through the mess.

After crawling about the small room on all fours for about ten minutes, he located the Vicodin. There wasn't much left, but it would do in the most unbearable times when the pain of his illness was too much. Pocketing the drugs, he made to stand.

A stainless steel shelf picked that time to topple over, spilling its contents and crashing to the tiled floor with a loud _clang_. Kimimaro froze, the silence deafening in the aftermath of the ear splitting crash. After a moment, he remembered to breathe. Straining his hearing, he picked up no signs of company.

_I need to leave._

He was moving toward the door before he even finished the thought. Without hesitating, he pushed through the door, disdaining the soft tinkling of the welcome bell overhead. Sharp eyes swept up and down the street, searching for signs of life or death. There were none.

Maintaining some caution, he stepped onto the dirt road and turned in the direction of the house he and Ino had temporarily commandeered. He didn't get more than three steps when a rush of wind alerted him to the danger all around him at the last second.

_Squelch._

The Infected that had jumped him from the roof above shuddered and spat up black blood. Kimimaro glared at it over the lengths of twin bone blades protruding from each of his wrists. Without a shred of regret, he pulled his arms apart with inhuman force, slicing his attacker clean in half and spilling rotted, black innards across the ground.

But his attacker wasn't alone.

The telltale rattling breath of more Infected reached his ears, and Kimimaro turned to look down the street. He counted seven. Even more appeared on the roof of the pharmacy, taking the place of their fallen brethren and peering down at him with oozing fever eyes. They bore all manner of weaponry, but Kimimaro was more concerned about whatever jutsu they may have possessed in their healthy lifetimes that would be turned against him now.

There were nearly twenty in total.

In the blink of an eye, the tense calm before the storm ended and the onslaught began. Two more Infected leaped down at him from above, intending to tackle him with brute strength and sharpened kunai. Channeling chakra through his entire skeleton, Kimimaro raised his arms in front of his face and released a slew of bone blades from all over his body, ignoring the brief shock of agony that accompanied his technique. He grunted under the force of the collision with the two falling Infected, grimacing as their blood dripped from numerous stab wounds. With a heave, Kimimaro pushed them off him and to the ground, his bone protrusions now dyed black with infection. He had barely enough time to discard them before more Infected rushed him all at once.

Things quickly devolved as their sheer numbers began to take a toll. Kimimaro slashed with two blades at those nearest, parrying blows from scythe and sword at close range. The problem was the ones remaining at a distance. Out of the corner of his eye, he detected the movement of hand seals. Cursing inwardly, he was forced to roll to avoid an incoming bolt of lightning that hardly fazed the other attackers still making swipes at him. He was fast, but they had the advantage of quantity. It angered him more than anything when he felt one of them slash his thigh with a rusty dagger.

He faltered, and it was enough of an opening for a blast of chakra-laced water to slam him in the chest. The pressure against his lungs made him cough as he skidded across the dirt road. Water from the enemy's jutsu trickled into his lungs, making his hacking worse and drawing up pink blood. All the while, he kept his eyes on the incoming Infected as they made to surround him, weeping black blood onto the ground and brandishing their weaponry in his general direction.

_I'll have to use that, _he thought grimly. _It'll cost me some chakra, but I don't have a choice._

Suppressing the urge to cough anymore through sheer willpower, Kimimaro circulated his chakra in preparation for one of his more effective techniques. Familiar pain lanced up the length of his back as his bones broke apart and regrew all within a matter of seconds. Reaching back, he grasped the protruding edge of his spinal cord and yanked. Years of experience had taught him that it was best to do this quickly. Sharp, intense pain was more tolerable when it lasted only a few seconds rather than a few minutes. He gritted his teeth as the long, whip-like cordion came free of his back, dripping blood in its wake. By now, the Infected had him surrounded and severely outnumbered.

He cracked his new bone whip on the ground, and they took it as an invitation. Three jumped him, each bearing a dull sword stained with old blood from past victims. Kimimaro swung his spinal cord and caught one of them around the neck. He yanked hard and slammed it into the one next to it, knocking them off course. The third one closed in on him, a fire based jutsu rumbling up beside it from a distance attacker. Kimimaro whirled, trying to dodge the attack while regaining his balance from throwing the other two Infected.

He was a fraction of a second too late. His eyes widened in slight shock at the incoming blade aiming to cleave his head.

The blow never came.

"_Move!"_

The command rang in his mind, spurring him into action. The Infected that had been about to cut him open had swerved and narrowly avoided him, as though it had decided to spare him at the last second. He didn't have time to ponder the mystery as he flipped to avoid the incoming blast of fire hurtling straight for him. Righting himself, Kimimaro took a quick moment to gauge his surroundings.

Ino skidded to a stop a few yards away, brows knit together in consternation and sweat beading under her bangs. Her hands were held together in a strange hand seal Kimimaro didn't recognize. They locked eyes momentarily, so much and so little passing between them in that instant.

A very small part of him was relieved to see her.

The skin-crawling rattle of a nearby Infected forced Kimimaro to turn away and focus on the battle at hand. He was about to lash the enemy when it jolted and came to an awkward stop several feet away, breath coming in angry hisses as it glared at Kimimaro through pousy, unseeing eyes. And yet, it turned around and made to face its fellow Infected.

_What is going on?_

It wasn't just the one. The Infected that had meant to gut him earlier crouched in a fighting stance against the others. One, then another of the enemy line stumbled as though struck, then turned and attacked their own. Kimimaro had never seen anything like it.

"_Go! I'll cover you!" _Ino's voice resonated in his head.

There would be time for questions later, he decided. Concentrating the chakra in his left arm, Kimimaro gritted his teeth to endure the pain as bone crawled to the surface, overtaking his skin and twisting around his appendage. After a moment, a drill-like hammer had replaced the entirety of his left forearm, jagged and sharpened to an unforgiving point. Crouching down for momentum, he launched himself into the thick of the battle already raging between the Infected.

With the spinal cord whip, he caught a nearby Infected around the neck and pulled down hard and fast, unrelenting until he felt bone snap and flesh rend. The enemy fell to the ground in a heap, partially severed head oozing tar and mixing with the dirt. Kimimaro moved swiftly past it, ramming his drill-like arm into the next Infected and impaling it through the stomach.

When an enemy came up behind him to attack his blind spot, another shoved a kunai through its eye socket before it even knew what was coming. Kimimaro swallowed his bewilderment for the moment, having deduced that whatever was happening was Ino's doing. Instead, he focused on evading a bolt of white lightning as he pounced on another Infected and bludgeoned its head to a pulp.

It was over in under five minutes. The two left standing merely watched, croaking incoherently as though furious, but they remained petrified on the spot. Panting heavily from exertion and his earlier coughing fit, Kimimaro turned on the last stragglers. They stood between Ino and himself.

Blue clashed with jade and for a moment time seemed to stop completely. But then Ino shifted her gaze toward her indentured minions. Without warning, they lunged at each other, biting and scratching and pulling festering flesh off grey bone. They literally tore each other apart. It was only a matter of seconds before they fell to the ground in a lifeless, gory heap. Only then did Ino break her seal and stand up straight.

She didn't speak as she drew up near him, blue eyes flickering to the bloody bone drill that was Kimimaro's left arm. She stopped a mere foot from him, letting him see her acknowledge his leg injury before meeting his gaze. Wordlessly, she knelt down and raised a glowing green hand to the gash, frowning as she worked.

Adrenaline gradually dissipated from his system with every labored breath while he focused on the feel of her soothing medical chakra slowly but surely stitching him back together. Closing his eyes, he tried to imagine for a fleeting moment that they weren't stuck in a ghost town surrounded by sickly corpses and perspiring under the sweltering heat of the summer sun. The bone casing on his left arm gradually began to strip away and disintegrate as he recalled his chakra. It would be sensitive for a while.

Ino rose then and Kimimaro opened his eyes.

"I told you two are better than one," she said, offering him a small but kind smile.

Kimimaro looked over Ino's shoulder at the decaying bodies roasting on the dirt road. The stench was beginning to linger in the air, heavy and damp. Every one of them was accounted for, and he'd suffered little with her there to back him up. He returned his eyes to her.

"...Yeah."

* * *

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Fine," Kimimaro said, taking another sip of the herbal tea she'd dug up from a raided convenience store.

It figured that was where she'd go, he thought. It would seem that even at the end of the world, most people preferred to hold onto their creature comforts. Right now, he didn't mind it. The tea, while admittedly a bit stale to the taste, at least soothed his raw throat and hid the rasp he'd acquired over the years from too many coughing fits.

Ino's eyes lingered on him a moment too long. He held her gaze, a silent challenge. But she said no more, and he was grateful for that. For now, it looked like she would keep her promise not to pry into his illness. Silence reigned for a moment as Ino took a sip of her own tea. He watched the steam from her cup as it wafted before her face.

"That technique you used," Kimimaro said. "Explain it to me."

Ino watched him calmly, seemingly unoffended by his blunt request. "The Shinranshin is a secret technique specific to my clan. We can manipulate the target's nervous system and control their body, but we leave the consciousness intact."

Kimimaro thought about this new information. "How many can you control at once?"

"Five, maybe six depending on my chakra level. My father can control ten all at once..." She trailed off and averted her gaze.

"Was he infected?" Kimimaro didn't care much about people, least of all those he had no connection to, but he was curious. Unlike him, he suspected Ino came from a shinobi village and, clearly, a shinobi clan.

She masked any emotional reaction by taking another drink of her tea. A nod was Kimimaro's only answer, and she refused to meet his eyes.

"You're not used to this," he said, lowering his voice in the thick silence all around them. "Being on your own."

Ino set her mug down and turned hard eyes on him. "And I suppose you are."

Kimimaro leaned forward on his knees, careful not to disturb the bandages on his thigh. "I've always preferred solitude."

"Well, you seemed pretty happy to see me earlier."

He pressed his lips together in a thin line, not liking her tone of voice. But...she had a point. And Kimimaro was not one to deny the facts for something as silly as his pride. "You're more useful than I originally predicted you'd be."

"You're welcome," she said.

The sunlight filtering through the lone basement window was wan and slowly retreating with the descending night. Kimimaro stood and set his cup on a the chair he'd been sitting in—there was no room for a table down here. "Don't leave on your own again. I don't want a repeat of this afternoon."

With that, he turned away from her and headed for the cramped bathroom for a shower, not awaiting her response. It didn't matter; he knew she'd listen to him for fear of losing him the next time she decided to disappear and he was ambushed. And this way, he wouldn't be caught off-guard and outnumbered again.

_Two birds, one stone._

When he returned to find the room empty and Ino moving around upstairs scrounging up some food for them, he thought little of it. Crossing the room, he began to change clothes when something caught his eye on the bed. He stared at it for a few breaths before leaning over to pick it up. The bottle was small and nondescript, and he squinted to read the label.

_Benzonatate, 200 mg._

His first reaction was to become angry. What business did she have meddling in his private affairs? He'd _specifically told her _to forget about that ordeal. Scowling, he thought briefly about discarding the medication just to spite her, but refrained. That would be childish and wasteful. The label indicated that the pills were to be used as a powerful cough suppressant and muscle relaxant.

_Just in case, _he thought to himself. They couldn't afford to have him keeling over during another attack, and he knew it.

Pocketing the bottle, he resolved not to say anything at all.


	4. Sky Falls Down

Oasis, chapter 4: Sky Falls Down  
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

* * *

Ino was bent over a creased map of the greater continent, skimming the names of the various countries and making rough estimations in her head about distance and time given their current location somewhere in northeastern Fire Country. She'd never been farther east than Wind Country, now that she thought about it. There had never been much of a reason to travel beyond with no shinobi villages to worry about. With her index finger, she traced the scratchy names of unknown territories. Land of Honey, Land of Caves, the Great Crater Lake... A thousand miles to the east was a long way to go.

"Planning a trip?"

Ino looked up at the sound of her companion's voice. Kimimaro stood by the small window, a towel around his neck as he rummaged around for a shirt. Ino frowned slightly. He went through shirts like they were going out of style. Every time he summoned bones anywhere on his upper body they would rip his clothing until it was hanging off him, depending on how many he called forth. And yet, he seemed to have enough shirts on hand to manage for now. Never mind that they were all the same—light grey, loose, and short-sleeved.

Pants, on the other hand, didn't seem to be in abundance. There was a slit across the thigh where an Infected had cut him the other day in their skirmish outside the pharmacy that he'd wrapped with bandages. Even though he'd managed to get most of the blood out, the deep violet look almost black around the tear. He looked like less like a fearsome shinobi and more like a rebellious teenager at the moment without his usual leg and arm guards on. Perhaps they should think about procuring some more clothing, especially if they were going to find themselves fighting again somewhere down the line.

Then again, Ino decided fashion was probably the least of his worries and thought better about commenting.

"I'm trying to plot out a course for us," she said instead, returning her attention to the map. "We've been heading east, and I think we should keep going."

Kimimaro tossed his towel on the bed and pulled a fresh shirt over his head. Ino caught a glimpse of the mysterious tattoo just below his clavicle but said nothing. She was _really _curious about it, but it was a moot point. If he wanted to open up, he'd do so in his own time. Until then, she'd try to work on getting him to trust her a little.

"Why?"

_Careful._

"These are the great shinobi countries," she said, indicating each of the five nations. "And there are—_were—_shinobi living and roaming around the lesser countries, like Bear and Rice. The farther east we go, the less chance there will be of running into more Infected."

Kimimaro was silent for a moment, thinking. "The infection's airborne. These distances probably won't matter if even one Infected makes it out there."

Ino was about to say that the point was to avoid any Infected with shinobi skills—certainly civilians would be simple enough to handle—but his words gave her pause. "How do you know the infection's airborne?"

If he regretted letting slip this knowledge, he didn't show it. _He really doesn't make this easy for me._

"It's obvious. People got sick just from exposure. Direct contact wasn't a prerequisite."

Ino held his gaze for a moment, turning this over. Sakura had deduced as much from drawn out observation in the early days of the outbreak, but over time it became obvious that illness could strike upon more direct exposure too, such as a blood transfusion. How Kimimaro, who was certainly not a medical expert, knew this was a cause for suspicion.

_He's hiding something._

"You're pretty astute for someone without formal medical training," Ino said, breaking eye contact so as not to draw his own suspicions. "We deduced as much from treating patients, too."

_But it took constant observation of different cases to be sure._

He took his time replying, which only confirmed Ino's silent thoughts. He knew more than he was letting on. But what? And why was he keeping it to himself?

"It doesn't matter. You are I are fine even after fighting hand to hand with the Infected, so we're clearly immune."

"To the airborne virus," Ino appended. "I wouldn't recommend drinking their blood, though."

He made a sound of agreement, either not getting the joke or choosing to ignore it. Regardless, Ino decided to move on from the topic before he got the idea that she knew he was hiding something. They had nothing but time alone together, after all; there would be more opportunities later.

"So you have no one left out here," he said.

"Excuse me?"

"If you had anyone left, you'd want to go west and search for them. I take it they're all infected or dead."

A fierce anger out of nowhere made her blood boil as the desire to punch him in his unfeeling face tempted her. The way he'd said it made it sound like looking for her loved ones would be an annoyance—a burden. But she refrained, schooling her expression out of habit. "I suggested going east because any other direction would be like asking to be ambushed. These parts are swarming with infected shinobi; it's a deathtrap."

Turning back to the map, she let her eyes travel east toward the fabled Sun Coast, the place old crones always talked about in their fairy tales to children. They said it was the edge of the world, where the sun was born and the darkness could never descend. Pretty words for naive children, but a place without darkness in a world haunted by nocturnal monsters sounded like utopia, no matter how fantastical.

"In any case, we agreed to head east if things turned sour," she added.

"So you're holding out hope that you'll see your family and friends again."

"And what's wrong with that?" She met his gaze, refusing to let him talk down to her.

He peered at her, more curious than condescending as though he couldn't possibly understand what it meant to miss another person. "As long as it doesn't affect our arrangement, I couldn't care less." He turned away from her then.

"Kimimaro," she called to him. "...Why do you hate people so much?"

She wasn't sure if he was actually a misanthrope or simply had no one in the world to care about to begin with, but depending on his answer she hoped to find out.

"What's there to like?"

_Misanthrope, then._

"Plenty. Especially now that—"

"I don't want to hear your platitudes. End of the world or not, you have your reasons and I have mine. Leave it at that."

Ino shook her head. "I'm going to prove you wrong."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. I'm going to prove to you that people are the most important part of being alive. If we... If we're really all that's left, then it would be a waste to squander this opportunity."

His expression didn't change one way or the other; he just looked at her with that same air of acute boredom, and Ino wondered if he might become angry with her.

"The only thing you can count on people for is their endless narcissism."

The hint of bitterness in his tone did not escape her notice, and she had to pause and wonder—what had he gone through to make him think like this?

"Egomania is a part of human nature," she allowed, "but it's only a small part in most people. I promise you that."

"Suit yourself," he said, turning away. He may as well have told her to shove off it.

Ino decided to let him go. There would be no point in arguing this any further; she would just have to show him over time that she wasn't out to get him. It made her wonder, though.

_What happened to you?_

"We'll leave within the hour. I don't want to get caught in the middle of nowhere once it gets dark," he called from the stairway, leaving no room for argument.

"Yeah," Ino said anyway, tapping a finger against the eastern seacoast.

* * *

They travelled lightly, all things considered. Needless to say, Ino was not thrilled about the prospect of sleeping outside again. There was something about having four concrete walls around her at night that provided a comforting illusion of safety. Sneaking a glance at her ever stoic companion, she had to admit she felt safe with Kimimaro regardless. As long as they stuck together, they might live to see another day in this world.

After making it out of the town, they skirted the thinning forests of Fire Country as they headed due east toward Grass Country. Normally, Ino would have opted to take advantage of even limited cover when traveling, but in this case she wanted to be out in the open to better spot any ambushes. Stretching her senses in a 360 degree sweep, she detected nothing out of the ordinary for miles. Beyond that, however, was anyone's guess.

It was early morning when they set out at a comfortable walking pace. There was no hurry, and running would tire them. Ino had to ignore the inexplicable sense of urgency as they meandered a thin animal trail near the edge of the woods. It wasn't as though she had anywhere to be anytime soon, and yet something within nagged that they should be hurrying along. She shook her head.

_If Shikamaru's out there, he'll stick to the plan. Stay calm._

Thoughts of her closest friend summoned thoughts of everyone else in Konoha. Some she'd witnessed fall victim to the infection. Others had died fighting those already turned. Watching Sakura deliver the killing blow to her own mentor as Ino's technique held the woman in place nearly destroyed them both. It had been for the greater good, but Sakura broke down after that, inconsolable and unable to face any more patients.

She didn't even know what had happened to most of the others. Sakura and Naruto disappeared soon after the incident with Tsunade, Naruto spouting something about finding a cure and not wanting to wait around for everyone to die. Ino wondered if they were still out there somewhere, or if they'd found Sasuke. That is, if there was anything left to find at this point.

The weight of her memories slowed her down a bit, and she realized she was lagging when she noticed Kimimaro walking several yards ahead of her. Needing a distraction—and wanting to focus on their current situation and safety—Ino jogged to catch up with him, her pack bouncing on her shoulders with the motion.

He didn't so much as look at her when she drew up even with him. Ino maintained a respectable distance to his left out of consideration for his personal space, and his lack of commentary told her she wasn't too close. Clearing her throat, she asked the first thing that came to mind.

"Where are you from?"

He glanced at her askance. "What does it matter?"

She shrugged. "I was just wondering. You're not wearing any identifying symbols."

"Neither are you."

Gloved hands moved to her neck where she'd worn her Leaf hitai-ate previously. She'd lost it somewhere, probably while running and fighting for her life. Deciding it probably didn't matter at this point (alliances meant nothing without villages to uphold them), she said, "I'm from Konoha. The Yamanaka clan, specifically."

"Konoha," he said, giving no indication of what he thought about that. "Of course."

"Of course what?"

"I've heard of the Yamanaka clan. I should have realized you were one of them sooner. That's all."

Ino thought that was a bit odd. Her clan was small, not like the Uchiha or the Hyuuga clans. Hers wasn't the household name theirs was. But she brushed it aside. The Yamanaka weren't so obscure as to be totally unknown.

"So, are you going to tell me where you're from or not?"

Kimimaro took his time responding. "Water Country."

Ino thought about this. His technique was clearly some kind of bloodline limit, and yet she'd never heard tell of it before. It must be a rare occurrence. Mist was known for its fear of bloodline limits, so she guessed that since he'd survived this long he must have been far removed from the village proper. Either his clan was nomadic—and she was positive he must be from a shinobi clan to fight the way he did—or it resided in rural Water Country away from the village system. Either way, he'd clearly left it behind.

"So why did you leave your clan?"

"What was that you were saying about egomania? That it's not a prominent characteristic in most people?"

Ino frowned at his bitter tone. "It was a simple deduction. Don't look so shocked."

"That's the last time I underestimate you."

Somehow, it came out sounding more like a threat than any sort of concession. They continued in silence for several minutes, and Ino resigned herself to the probability that he wasn't going to divulge anything after all.

_Oh well._

"Kaguya."

"What?"

"The name of my clan was Kaguya."

Before she could ask about the past tense he added, "They were all killed many years ago."

Ino was speechless for a moment. "I... I'm sorry to hear that."

"Don't be. They chose their own fate."

A cold chill crept up her spine at his callous attitude toward the family he no longer had. For him to be so dismissive of his own kin was surely a sign that this was probably not the type of person she wanted watching her back. They barely knew each other still, and he had even less reason to look out for her than he would family. She stopped that train of thought before it could continue.

_He needs me as much as I need him._

But what would happen when he no longer needed her?

"How did they die?"

"They liked to fight. So one night, my father decided to invade Mist."

Ino gaped at him. "Invade? As in, your clan alone against a great shinobi village? That's suicide."

"That's hubris."

Unbelieving that such madness could have driven an entire clan of shinobi to its brutal death on a whim of ambition, Ino shook her head. "How did you escape?"

When he didn't respond, Ino chanced a look at him. He had a faraway look in his eyes, and she wondered what he was remembering. Whatever it was, it didn't look like a very pleasant memory.

"A shinobi passing through took me in and gave me a new purpose."

"...Where is that person now?"

"He's dead."

His tone of finality made Ino wonder if he'd done the deed himself for how sure he sounded. Wanting to say something to ameliorate the dark mood that had descended over them she said, "I suppose that's better than turning into one of the Infected."

Kimimaro blinked, a brief flash of anger lighting up his eyes. "Yeah. That would have been much worse."

They exchanged no more words for the next few hours.

* * *

With the sun beginning to sink from its highest point in the sky, Kimimaro pulled a water bottle from his pack and took a long gulp. The Fire Country was damp and hot in the summer, and he would be glad to get out of it as soon as possible. Ino seemed content to walk in silence for the most part, making passing comments here and there about the scenery. Nothing important since their rather personal conversation earlier that morning.

_Yamanaka._

He remembered Orochimaru talking about the Yamanaka clan once a couple years ago when some Sound shinobi captured one of their rank alive for Kabuto to dissect. _Mind benders, _Orochimaru had called them. Having met one himself now, Kimimaro was inclined to agree. Had he known the purpose of Kabuto's experimentation on that young Yamanaka shinobi then, he probably would have killed the boy himself.

Not that it mattered anymore. What was done was done.

Clearly, Ino had no idea about his past relationship with Orochimaru or Sound. Giving her the name of his clan would have tipped off anyone privy to that information. He felt more relaxed knowing she was oblivious to his background, especially with her being from Konoha. The last thing he needed was the last dregs of now obsolete village loyalties interfering in their survival together.

_Together._

He supposed they were in this together now. So far, she'd proven useful in many ways, if not a little too sharp for comfort. He would have to be careful to watch his words around her in the future. She stopped walking rather abruptly, eyes half-lidded and lips pressed together in a show of anxiety.

"What is it?"

"Someone's coming." She looked toward the forest. "They're coming fast."

_Wonderful._

"How many?"

"Just one."

Icy green eyes narrowed at the gnarled trees concealing whatever Infected was crazy enough to try to ambush them alone. Still, he'd learned that even one Infected was one more than he was willing to let live. Shrugging his pack off, he handed it to Ino.

"Put this somewhere out of the way. I'll handle this."

Ino rolled her eyes but didn't argue. She stashed their packs at the foot of a nearby tree and returned to his side. "Didn't we just decide that we work better together than alone?"

Kimimaro ignored her as he coaxed a fresh bone blade from the palm of his hand. "Two against one wouldn't be very fair."

He caught her smirk out of the corner of his eye. "Whatever you say," she said, taking a few steps back.

The couple minutes of waiting, staring deep into the heart of the woods, seemed like the longest of Kimimaro's life. But he would be ready, and they could get the hell out of here.

"Oh," Ino said. "That's... No, it can't be—"

"What?"

"Oh my god. He's here!"

Several tense seconds of absolute silence ticked by, making Kimimaro sweat. Something wasn't right...

_Clang!_

Kimimaro jumped backwards, bone blade held in front of him for protection just as a scythe bigger than any he'd ever laid eyes on collided with his calcified weapon. Pale eyes narrowed as a dark figure emerged from the bosque, a long metal cord reeling the triple bladed scythe back toward its owner. Landing next to Ino, he got a good look at the enemy. He was covered in stitches, as though he'd been ripped apart and put back together in a hurry. A once impressive physique barely covered by the remains of a black robe was riddled with scars and dried black blood, but Kimimaro detected no fresh wounds, much to his suspicion.

"It's not possible," Ino said, eyes wide. "It's not possible."

"You know this one?"

The Infected shinobi, as though recognizing itself to be the topic of conversation, let out a rattling cackle, baring broken teeth in a frightful smile. Kimimaro froze at the sight. There was something unnatural and sinister about this one.

"H-Hidan," Ino said. "That's Hidan, of Akatsuki."

Kimimaro peered between his blonde companion and the Infected brandishing its grisly scythe at them. If he didn't know better, he'd say there was some kind of history here by her reaction. "You know him personally."

"We defeated him."

"Clearly you didn't do a very good job of it."

Before Ino could respond, Hidan launched his scythe at them once more, forcing them to split up to avoid getting maimed. Kimimaro swore under his breath as he drew another bone blade from his palm. First things first—he had to separate Hidan and his weapon. Taking off at breakneck speed, he lunged for the fallen Akatsuki, sharpened bones at the ready.

Hidan dodged the attack at point-blank range. Kimimaro matched his steps and made to stab again, but Hidan was fast. Too fast.

"_Get out of there now!"_

Having learned by now never to ignore a warning from Ino, Kimimaro jumped high over Hidan's head just as the wicked scythe collided with the Akatsuki's chest right where Kimimaro had been only half a second ago. Green eyes watched, unmoved, as the blades cut through Hidan's rotted flesh, spilling black blood to the grassy earth below. Landing several yards away, Kimimaro regained his bearings.

_That was fast._

The chill he'd felt before returned with the force of a frigid wind as he watched Hidan grip the scythe's handle and yank it out of his body. Diseased violet eyes turned to face him, the grin on his face taunting and truculent.

_How is he still standing?_

"_He's immortal." _Ino's voice rang in his head. _"Physical attacks won't bring him down."_

Even via their mental link, Kimimaro could detect the trepidation in her voice. Immortal? But that was preposterous. No one was immortal.

Hidan spit sticky black spittle on the ground and readied his scythe once more, advancing on Kimimaro as though that last attack hadn't even fazed him.

"_Fantastic," _he communicated to Ino.

"_Watch out!"_

He didn't need to be told twice. Having reclaimed his scythe, Hidan now slashed at Kimimaro with renewed vigor, and the latter was forced to deflect the swipes rather than deliver his own attacks. With every blow he deflected, Kimimaro grew increasingly more irritated.

_Enough._

Just as Hidan's scythe bore down on him again, he twisted and pushed his chakra out. Pain bloomed at his elbows and knees as gnarled bones emerged from his joints and extended several feet. Completing a spin, Kimimaro drove an elbow into Hidan's spine, a killing blow on any normal man. But Hidan simply staggered a little before reaching back to pull the bone out. Kimimaro let him, bringing a knee around in the momentum to ram into Hidan's lower abdomen.

Pausing, he wondered why Ino wasn't intervening with her technique to slow Hidan down. Most likely reading this thought, her voice reached him then.

"_Restrain him, please!"_

"_That's your job."_

"_Just do it, Kimimaro!"_

The edge in her voice was one he hadn't heard before, and he suspected this was a lot more personal to her than she'd let on. Without much time or opportunity to argue as Hidan continued to attack him relentlessly, Kimimaro searched for an opening. Hidan threw his scythe again, but Kimimaro dodged it easily. Following its erratic path briefly, he saw it careening straight for Ino, who was running to meet them.

Without thinking twice, Kimimaro reached for the metal cord and yanked hard, throwing the scythe's trajectory off course. He was rewarded for his efforts with a severe punch to the gut that would have shattered a normal ribcage, no doubt. Still, it was enough to induce a coughing fit.

Hidan swung a rotted leg around for a nasty kick aimed at Kimimaro's head, but through sheer willpower the latter managed to impale the appendage with a jagged bone. Swallowing the cough and the screaming pain in his stomach, Kimimaro took advantage of Hidan's pause and gutted him, holding him in place. Hidan hissed and spat, the enhanced strength granted by the infection enough to sway them and make Kimimaro begin to see double as he tried to suppress the cough.

"_Ino...!"_

"Die!"

Kimimaro watched as she jumped onto Hidan's impaled leg, glowing green chakra blades at the forefront, and slashed at his neck. With a sickening _squelch_, Hidan's neck opened up and spewed black blood in every direction. Medical chakra-infused blades allowed for one clean cut through tissue and bone alike, and Hidan's head tumbled to the ground. Kimimaro lost his balance under the unstable weight and stumbled backwards, hacking up blood.

After a moment and once his bone blades disintegrated, he could feel something cool and soft in his chest alleviating the liquid burn. As if of its own accord, more blood dribbled from Kimimaro's mouth, bitter and toxic as it dripped onto the ground. Cracking an eye open, he saw Ino kneeling next to him, her hands radiating a soft green light. Without the energy to do anything but continue to cough, he couldn't push her away. The fit subsided after a few minutes and Kimimaro wiped his mouth.

"What did you do?"

"I forced the blood accumulating in your lungs out. You should be able to breath more easily for now."

Keeping his eyes screwed shut, Kimimaro attempted a breath. Sure enough, the ubiquitous churning indicative of old blood pooling in his lungs was gone. Before he could appreciate it fully, the same soothing chakra wended its way through the muscles and bones of his abdomen, soothing the pain from Hidan's earlier attack. Against his better judgement, Kimimaro slumped a little into her touch. For the moment, telling her off for meddling in his health affairs was the furthest thought from his mind.

"There," she said, pulling away to give him some space.

Blinking, Kimimaro looked at her. Her flak vest was splattered with what he guessed was Hidan's blood from the decapitation. Otherwise, she looked unharmed. Shifting his gaze to Hidan's dismembered corpse next, he noticed the severed head spitting and hissing in their general direction.

"It's still alive," he said, incredulous.

Ino turned to look at the head. "He can't die in the traditional way," she explained, voice even and hard. "The only way to defeat him is to separate the head from the body. This time...I'll destroy the head for good."

This was a side to the girl he hadn't seen before. Curiosity got the better of him. "Who did he kill?"

"...My old teacher. I never really got my chance at him then."

_Revenge, _he thought, understanding. _It's one of the most powerful motivators._

"I'm going to finish this once and for all. I won't be long."

Kimimaro just stared as she marched over to Hidan's rattling head and began to inundate it with chakra. Right before his eyes, the skin on the head began to boil and melt. A sound escaped it that could have passed for the scream of a dying animal, but Kimimaro felt no sympathy for it. Instead, his eyes were trained on Ino's face. It remained cold and unforgiving even during the entire gruesome process.

When the screaming stopped and all that remained was a stinking puddle of tar and bone, Ino stood and offered Kimimaro a hand up. All the while, she gave nothing away. "I'll get our packs. Are you okay to keep going?"

"Yeah."

As they set off again, Kimimaro found himself staring at her every now and then. No, he'd never be underestimating her again, he thought. And a part of him deep down suddenly felt more at ease with her by his side.

* * *

"How many?"

Ino swallowed hard but didn't respond. Kimimaro gripped her shoulder and shook her.

"I said, how many?"

Blue eyes snapped open. "I don't know."

"What do you mean, you don't know?"

"I mean there are too many to count."

She watched him for a reaction, the pale moonlight casting half his face in shadows and illuminating his ghostly eyes. They were near the border of Grass Country, but after the incident with Hidan things had gone downhill. Ino picked up on a herd of Infected as the sun set, and while they tried to outrun it the herd split in order to surround them. Now, in the dead of night, they found themselves boxed in with little opportunity for escape.

"Then we need to run."

Ino didn't argue with him as they took off at breakneck speed to the north. The herd was approaching from east and west, so if they could simply outrun it they might escape unharmed. Paranoid, and for good reason, Ino tracked the herd's movements incessantly, not caring that she might be using more chakra than she should to pinpoint their exact locations.

"Shit."

"Do I want to know."

"They split again. We can't turn around now."

Kimimaro didn't respond to that, but he picked up the pace until they were nearly flying through the trees. When the first kunai sliced off a bit of Ino's bangs, she knew they had failed. Rather than waiting for Kimimaro to dodge the incoming fire projectile attack himself, Ino lunged and tackled him from behind. They fell to the earth together, a moving conflagration filling the space they'd occupied only milliseconds ago. He looked up at her and they both knew what was coming.

"We're out of time," she said, forcing a smile.

"Not yet, we're not," he said, pulling them both to their feet.

As they stood, the Infected emerged on all sides. Not wasting any time, Ino and Kimimaro threw themselves into battle. Ino took control of the nearest two Infected and turned them against their brethren, hacking and slashing. Behind her Kimimaro was busy gutting Infected left and right. She caught a glimpse of him spilling a former Suna nin's intestines before moving onto the next opponent without even bothering to admire his handiwork.

But they just kept coming.

Even with her two, then three, then four mind controlled minions, Ino could not keep up with the sheer numbers. One Iwa kunoichi attempted to lop off her head with a bo staff, and Ino had to block the blow with her chakra blades while her minions dealt with other Infected. Fighting hand-to-hand was not her modus operandi, but it looked like she wouldn't have much of a choice here.

All of a sudden, she felt someone grab her hand and pull hard. "What—"

"Run," Kimimaro said, dragging her along.

Ino nearly tripped over the piling corpses of Infected she and Kimimaro had slaughtered, but she didn't have time to think about it as they broke into a run again. Emerging beyond the treeline, Ino had a clearer view of what they were up against.

"Oh my god," she said, horrified.

There were hundreds of them.

Kimimaro released her hand. "I'm not dying like this."

Ino didn't have anything to say to that. From her point of view, it looked quite the opposite. Still, she wasn't about to go down without a fight. Drawing on her chakra, she prepared to launch Shinranshin once more. Beside her, Kimimaro remained stony faced and unmoving, but she assumed he had something up his sleeve.

With a rattling cry, the Infected ran at them all at once. Ino released her technique, stopping six in their tracks and turning them against their neighbors. She took out nearly fifteen Infected in under seven seconds. Kimimaro had disappeared from her side, his bone drill and spinal cord whip flaying and filleting as he moved.

It wasn't enough.

She knew this when she felt the first knick of a kunai at her back, an attack she didn't have the strength or foresight to dodge in time. They began closing in, swiping and slashing at every opportunity. Ino suffered lesions and lacerations across her arms and one particularly heinous one in her left flank. Kimimaro wasn't faring much better as even his spiny bone armor could not deter the elemental techniques driving him into a corner and melting his bone drill. Soon, they were literally back to back and surrounded on all sides by the Infected.

Notwithstanding the palatable fright making her hands shake as she tried to maintain her feeble hand seal, the welling despair that dying here would mean never seeing anyone she loved ever again was nearly asphyxiating. It killed her to think that she wouldn't even get the chance to know for certain if she and Kimimaro were the only ones left.

"Kimimaro," she whispered, fearful blue eyes darting between the mutilated Infected stalking ever closer. "I'm..."

"There's nothing to say," he said, shifting behind her. "Don't bother."

Ino smiled a little sadly. _At least I'm not alone in the end. _"I'm glad I met you."

He tensed behind her, but she couldn't possibly know if it was at her words or the sudden lunge of a screaming Infected. Bracing herself for impact, Ino resolved to take as many Infected with her as possible.

A loud _crack_ drew her attention to the west, where what appeared to be a small mushroom cloud billowed skyward from among a section of the Infected army. The glow of fire followed soon after, and for a moment everyone froze.

Until another similar _crack_ resounded to the north.

_What on earth...?_

A rush of strong wind forced Ino and Kimimaro to duck for cover, and she looked up. To her horror what looked to be a great, white dragon circled the plain above them. Mesmerized, Ino watched as it belched out a missile projectile from its tail. It fell to the earth in a precise path, as though controlled remotely, whereby it exploded in a brilliant display of body parts and light.

Distantly, Ino thought she heard someone laughing, and the dragon drew her eyes once more.

"There's someone up there controlling it," Kimimaro said.

The Infected switched gears and aimed all their attacks skyward. Kimimaro wasted no time in taking advantage of the confusion and massacring any unfortunate Infected that happened to be within bludgeoning range. Ino watched the sky dragon and, ever so briefly, caught a glimpse of blond and black atop it.

_Someone's come to save us, _she thought.

And just as the thought passed through her mind, the unidentified shinobi released a meteor shower of bombs upon the horde of Infected. The sky lit up with the rain of fire and smoke, and all around her Ino could hear the blood-curdling screams of the dead and the dying.

Back to back, Ino and Kimimaro clawed their way through the fields of blood and fire, desperately holding onto something as their eyes remained ever skyward.


	5. Three's a Crowd

Oasis, chapter 5: Three's a Crowd

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

* * *

The only thought in Ino's mind was that of survival, both for Kimimaro and herself. As the sky came crashing down all around them, she kept her eyes up to avoid running into the line of fire of a falling bomb. All around her the Infected fell, victims of immolation to appease the firebringer stalking the heavens above. Every now and then the sound of his laughter reached her ears, and she wondered if this person was a harbinger of death or salvation for them.

Kimimaro slammed his bone drill into a charging Infected, throwing it out of their path. Ino managed to draw in a couple stragglers to flank them, picking up the slack when Kimimaro was too busy bludgeoning something.

"He's destroying them all," Ino said as they leaped over smoking entrails and dodged flying body parts.

The bombs fell from the sky like so many shooting stars, lighting up the night sky in a red-orange glow. The full moon's light wasn't quite strong enough to penetrate the rising smoke and ash. They ran to get away from the herd and not be caught up in the spreading destruction. Something told her this shinobi wouldn't discriminate between the Infected and them, if he even knew they were out there.

_Something's not right._

The bombs had gradually stopped exploding, and Ino realized he was probably running out. With a good number of the Infected still running around, that was not a good sign. When the giant dragon itself twisted and turned its nose to the earth, she felt herself stumble. She hadn't noticed it before due to distance and distraction, but spending a moment to examine the colossal white beast instilled a fear like none other in her blood.

"Kimimaro, stop," she said, skidding to a halt.

The pale shinobi turned back to her, and Ino noted the bloodied state of his clothing. She imagined she looked no better, but now was not the time. Turning to bash in the head of an Infected that crept too close, he shook the entrails from his bone drill and said, "What."

"That dragon," she said, indicating the beast. "It's a bomb. And I think it's going to blow any minute now."

Hard, green eyes turned skyward to see the circling monster, oblivious to the feeble attacks of the Infected gathered below it. "How do you know?"

"I can see the chakra in it. It's manmade, and since it was spewing bombs before..."

Kimimaro was about to respond to that, but just then the dragon swooped down at high speed—a one-way collision course. Ino didn't even have time to react. She didn't even manage to turn back to Kimimaro as the white dragon plummeted to the earth at blinding speed. All she registered was standing one moment, stupefied, and being crushed to the earth the next. Before she could even protest or move, the world exploded all around her in a fantastical display of raw destruction and light.

Blinded by the brightness and deaf to everything but the head-splitting ringing in her ears, Ino gagged at the acute loss of sensory perception. She couldn't say how long she stayed like that, sinking into the blood-soaked ground under the weight of the moon, it seemed, but finally she remembered to breathe. The colors dancing across the insides of her eyelids faded, and she chanced a peek at the world around her. Resting just inches from her face was a leathery arm, its claws digging into the earth as though holding on for dear life. It took her a second to register that the arm must be attached to a person, and that person must be the incredible weight she felt. Panic took hold soon after. Normal people didn't have scaly, brown skin.

"What...the hell," she said, trying to push upwards. The sound of her voice was distant after the hellish ringing in her ears.

The weight shifted and Ino took advantage of the movement to twist her head around. When she came face to face with eerie yellow eyes and incisors too long to be human, she wanted to scream. As though smelling her spiking fear, the _creature _hovering over her sneered. Ino could feel his chest rumble with a low growl, his frigid chakra foreign and stifling.

"Ino," he snarled.

_No way..._

"K-Kimimaro?" Her body wouldn't move. The realization that this _thing_ was Kimimaro froze her solid.

After a short stalemate, he shifted and pushed off her. Only once he wasn't in her direct line of sight did Ino regain her motor skills and sit up. Ignoring the thick smoke and smell of burning flesh in the air, she squinted at the stunted figure before her. Jagged, white bones poked through his flesh all the way down his spine, making him look more reptilian than human. A thick, scaly tail twitched and clawed hands flexed and cracked, making her cringe at the alien sound.

_What is this dreadful power?_

He stood up straight. Tongues of painted fire lit up across his bare skin, glowing and then slithering toward his chest. As they traveled away from his body's extremities, the tail began to shrink and the bones began to recede. As though shedding a second skin, brown bled to the pale complexion belonging to the Kimimaro she knew. Following the migrating flame pattern with her eyes Ino watched, slack jawed, as it absorbed through a single point on Kimimaro's chest, taking the dark chakra with it. And then it hit her.

_A cursed seal..._

As Kimimaro reverted to his usual self and the last of the sinister energy withdrew, Ino made out the triple-bladed pinwheel tattooed over his clavicle through rips in his shirt, the only portion of his body still glowing red with unknown chakra.

_Not a tattoo. It's a cursed seal, just like Sasuke's._

But if Kimimaro bore a cursed seal similar to Uchiha Sasuke's, then that could mean only one thing—he was somehow connected to Orochimaru.

Kimimaro opened his eyes, once more their striking green hue, and examined first the decimated landscape around them then the sky above. "That guy's gone. He must be lying around here somewhere. Ino." He turned to her. "Find him."

A few seconds passed as Ino's mind went from blank to speechless to seriously considering demanding an explanation from him right then and there. Nothing in his expression changed as he waited for her comply, though he must have known what was going through her head.

_Of course he knows._

Ino swallowed and pushed herself to her feet. As she rose, she considered her options. She could bring up the cursed seal and risk another confrontation like the last time she'd pointed it out. While an attractive option, it was also the least logical. This was neither the time nor the place to discuss it. Alternatively, she could forget it for now and concentrate on more important matters, such as getting as far away from this burning field as possible and locating their would-be savior. There would be time later to think of a better way to approach this little problem, and she sure as hell wanted to be prepared for hostility from Kimimaro.

_He just saved my life. He's not my enemy, _she reasoned. It was more than she could have said the last time this happened.

Initiating a sensing technique, Ino searched for any chakra signature in the area. There were only about a dozen left, and she guessed the mystery shinobi was among them somewhere. They just had to find him and eliminate the remaining Infected along the way.

"This way," she said, gesturing to the right.

Kimimaro nodded and they set off deeper into the smoking wasteland.

* * *

_Indifferent._

It was all Deidara felt these days. The anger and incredulity had only lasted him so long; there was nothing he could do to change things back to the way they used to be, so why bother losing sleep over it? And wasn't this what he'd always wanted? A world where he could be free of Akatsuki and his servile existence therein? Somehow, he wasn't so sure anymore.

He'd survived the fight with Uchiha Sasuke. His ultimate art had failed, which made him more furious than anything, really. Looking back on it, he supposed his severe lack of chakra had had something to do with it. The ensuing explosion had been pitiful compared to what it was supposed to be. And now that his seal had been used up, there was no getting it back.

Soft sheets and the sound of running water were the first sensations that had greeted him upon waking. The small room's peach walls were unfamiliar, but the unknown had never frightened Deidara before.

Glass shattering made him jerk to full attention. A girl, no more than eight or nine years of age, stared wide-eyed in the doorway. Pieces of porcelain and a single tulip lay scattered across the floor as water crept toward the bed. Deidara and the little girl locked eyes for several breaths before she turned around and ran out of the room, screaming something unintelligible.

"Hey, wait!" he said, but she was long gone. "Damnit."

Deidara attempted to sit up but found that he could not, and it wasn't for lack of trying. His legs would not _move. _A million and one scenarios raced through this head. Maybe he'd been apprehended by a shinobi village after his battle with Sasuke? Or worse, maybe Oonoki's goons had found him. In that case, he needed to get the hell out of here before anyone else showed up—

"Oh heavens, you're finally awake!" a woman's voice interrupted his thoughts.

Deidara looked up to see a middle-aged woman walking toward him, the little girl from before and a teenaged girl—her sister, perhaps—lingering in the doorway. He glared at the unknown female closing in on him and two realizations struck. One, she was clearly a civilian judging from her attire. And two, she clearly had no idea who he was, given her severe lack of self-preservation in approaching him so carelessly.

"Do you remember anything?" she asked, fiddling with an IV he hadn't noticed was stuck in the back of his hand until now.

"Uh..."

"No, I suppose you wouldn't," she said, her tone no-nonsense but not unkind. "We found you near the blast site of a landmine. It wiped out the next town over. Mind you, I have no idea what you were doing out there all by yourself or how you could have survived the explosion, no less." She placed the IV needle in a towel and wrapped it up for disposal. "You're lucky, young man."

_She has no idea who I am._

"My name is Keira, and those are my daughters," she said, indicating the two younger women in the doorway. "Are you going to tell me your name?"

Deidara's initial instinct was to tell her to mind her own business, but he refrained. In his present condition he was not fit to be picking fights with anyone, even cantankerous civilian crones. "...Deidara, yeah."

"That's an odd name," she said. "But I suppose it's the only one you've got, hm?"

"Has anyone..." he said, thinking about how he could ask if any S-class criminals had stopped by to pay their respects. "I mean, did anyone come looking for me?"

At this, Keira's sour face softened a little. "Not a soul, I'm afraid."

_Akatsuki doesn't know I'm alive._

She must have mistaken his brooding expression for sadness. "Don't be too hard on yourself. It's been nearly a year since the accident, and with no word—"

"What did you just say?" he said. "A _year?"_

Keira pressed her lips together in a thin line, unimpressed with his manners. "Nearly. I wasn't sure if you would ever wake up. Honestly, it's a miracle you're alive at all. Your body was in shambles when Kana there found you."

"Who?"

"Oh, um, I-I'm Kana, um..." the teenaged girl said, a blush dusting her plain face.

"Oh. Well anyway, I need to get back to my, uh, friends, yeah."

"Your body's like jello, boy," Keira said, pushing him back onto the bed with the flat of her hand when he tried to sit up. "You'll stay here and rest until you recover your strength."

Again, Deidara literally had to bite his tongues so as not to say something he'd likely regret. He settled for an angry scowl.

"Eat, sleep. Once your bones have a little meat on them, you can exercise until you're fit for travel."

"Why are you helping me?" As far as he could remember, no one had ever done anything for him without expecting something in return.

"Would you rather I left you to die? I can put you back where we found you, if that's what you want."

Deidara smirked. He'd always liked women better than men; the good ones put up a hell of a fight when threatened, and they seldom bothered with silly things like ego the way most men did. "Yeah, fine. Got anything to eat around here?"

It was three months before he was well enough to travel again, and even then Keira was astounded by his recovery. He had no intention of telling them he was a shinobi, but by the looks they gave him when he worked his muscles in basic physical therapy exercises for hours each day, he had a feeling they knew better than to ask outright.

The little girl, Kohane, was the only one of her family who sought him out due to curiosity instead of some perceived duty to a houseguest. She brought him hand picked wildflowers or painted glass, little knick-knacks that had no value but that Deidara liked nevertheless. One day he showed her the mouths on his palms. She jumped when one stuck its tongue out at her, and he laughed and laughed. She was too afraid to tell her mother what she'd seen.

Not a trace of his previous life remained. Everything, even the clothing on his back, had been destroyed in the blast of his ultimate art. With no clay to speak of, he would have to hike to the only mine in Earth Country where the raw material could be found. Still, he wasn't deterred. He was going stir-crazy living with these women, one of whom clearly had "feelings" for him; never mind that he wasn't interested with more pressing matters at hand.

When the day came that he decided he was recuperated enough to make the journey north, he resolved to leave before first light while everyone was still sleeping. As he snuck out of the house with pilfered food and wearing clothes that didn't belong to him, he paused to look back on the sleeping abode.

It would be so easy to blow it to smithereens with one explosive punch. Even without his clay, Deidara's chakra was as potent as ever. He took a few steps toward the house, intending to do just that; the last thing he needed was witnesses. But he refrained. It wasn't out of some misplaced sense of gratitude—it was their own fault for taking in an S-class criminal. Rather, he didn't much like the idea of creating art without his clay. It wasn't his style. So he turned north and never looked back.

And that was when he noticed things had changed. At first the encounters were few and far between. Deidara had never been the type to fall ill very easily, but he was no stranger to sickness. It wasn't until the diseased began attacking him that he knew something was wrong. Fires broke out randomly. The smell of blood and rot on the wind was a near constant. Screams no longer made him hyper wary of his immediate surroundings.

They were calling them the Infected, stricken people whose sickness drove them to madness until they devolved into primeval killing machines operating purely on instinct and an insatiable drive to kill those unafflicted. Deidara got the message soon enough to avoid contact with them at all costs, which turned out to be a simple feat once he replenished his supply of infusion clay. Atop a new avian creation, he headed due south for Rain. At that point he was ready to reveal his existence to Akatsuki if it meant getting some answers.

What he found was a city drowning in death. Survivors ran amuck in the streets as the Infected hunted them down with ninjutsu and sword alike, determined not to leave a single alley unsearched. Deidara looked down on the scene with disgust. Even without his scope, the carnage was easy enough to discern.

_There's no way Pein and Konan survived this, yeah._

Deidara caught an air current and flew higher, molding clay as he rose. He'd never liked the fact that joining Akatsuki was never his choice, and he never cared for any of the other members much except Sasori. But the puppet master was long gone; he would never see the state of this mad world now.

A woman burst onto the rooftop of a building, frantic and searching around for an escape. In a twist of fate (or insanity), she looked up to see Deidara hovering atop his bird and reached a hand up, begging for help. He peered down at her from his lofty perch, barely able to hear her anguished wails. A group of Infected flooded onto the rooftop after her. In a matter of seconds, the woman was literally torn to pieces by knives and nails, her screaming sputtering to an gurgle before dying out. Deidara kneaded the clay between his palms as he continued to watch the grisly scene unfold below. The Infected turned their swollen eyes skyward and saw him, hissing and waving their weapons in his general direction.

_Pitiful._

The explosion from his C3 bomb was magnificent. He could almost hear the steel ripping and rending as the earth collapsed beneath the foundations of Rain. Everything within a twenty mile diameter was obliterated. Deidara shielded his face with a dark clad arm to keep the heat at bay. It was a beautiful sight to behold. _Magnificent._

"I guess Akatsuki couldn't stand up to my art, after all!" he said, grinning.

It continued from there. He flew north then east, summoning explosive meteor storms as he went. Over time, he began to notice that the Infected liked to travel in packs of hundreds. But even in their great numbers, they stood little chance against his art. One herd he attacked with landmines, luring them to the target area and watching as they initiated their own demise. With another, he took a page out of Sasori's book and attacked with one hundred explosive clay puppets from the safety of his volant mount. No matter how much the Infected had cut and slashed and bombarded him with their elemental jutsu, they had been no match for his aerial advantage.

But now, as he looked down on a burning field from the back of his C2 dragon, Deidara felt his laughter falling upon deaf ears. All these Infected did was _die. _They never screamed. They never begged for mercy or tried to escape. They never _appreciated _their mortality. They just kept coming, living only to fight.

_They're not even living, yeah._

The irony was pathetic. He was on his own with the freedom to exercise artistic expression, and no one cared. What was the point of carrying on like this with no audience to appreciate his work?

He hated the Infected. They didn't care. They _couldn't _care. So why should he? Out of explosive clay, he made a decision he normally would never resort to—he abandoned his dragon and sent it careening into the ground. As he fell, superheated air propelling him in the wake of an incredible explosion, Deidara smiled. He didn't even feel the impact when his battered body hit the ground. Vision dancing and momentarily deaf, he forced his eyes to remain open to observe the beautiful brilliance of his fleeting art.

_The colors..._

Reds and pinks and yellows of all shades danced before his eyes, big and bright and gone the next instant. How he loved this! The absence of sound only added to the mystique of the moment. But as he lay upon churned, bloody earth, an easy smile on his face as he replayed the moment over and over in his mind, he felt the sudden urge to scream, just because. In the end, it didn't matter how much he loved his art. Art was meant to be shared and admired by others.

"I guess it's an artist's destiny to be alone, huh," he said aloud to the sky gradually brightening with the coming dawn.

"Hey, are you okay?"

A ghostly chill suddenly raced up Deidara's spine at the sound of a voice other than his own. Blue eyes shifted to his left until a shape came into focus. Pale gold and endless blue were all he could see as he stared, disbelieving, at the girl hovering beside him.

* * *

The man looked half dead where he lay. If not for the icy blue of his eyes, Kimimaro might have mistaken him for an Infected. Maintaining a respectable distance, he watched as Ino rushed to his side.

"Hey, are you okay?" she asked.

Kimimaro scrutinized the fallen shinobi with a critical eye. Fallen or not, this man had eliminated several hundred Infected alone. There was no way Kimimaro wanted to risk Ino or himself for the sake of curiosity.

"_Don't let your guard down," _he communicated via the mental link to Ino.

"_...I won't."_

"Who're you?" His voice was raspy and a little strained.

"I'm Ino," she said. "You saved our lives, you know."

There was a pause as the unnamed shinobi stared at Ino. Kimimaro's palms itched, bone grinding beneath flesh. He was ready to lash out at any minute.

"So you saw it?"

"Saw what?"

"My art. The explosion, yeah."

_Art? Is this guy insane?_

"Yeah, we saw it. We had a pretty good view from ground zero," Ino said. "I'll assume you didn't know we were down there."

The shinobi chuckled to himself and closed his eyes, reveling. "It was beautiful, wasn't it?"

Kimimaro glared at Ino and the stranger. Something about this guy bothered him, not the least of which was this nonsensical babbling about art. "I didn't catch your name," he said, drawing the blond's attention.

As soon as they locked eyes, all signs of his previous enjoyment left the shinobi's face. "I didn't give it, yeah."

Kimimaro flexed his fingers, the knuckles cracking loudly. Ino must have picked up on the rising tension between them because she chose this time to speak up.

"Hey, you're in bad shape," she said, holding up a glowing green hand. "I'm a medical ninja. I can help you if you let me."

Suspicious eyes narrowed at the display of chakra as the unknown shinobi resumed ignoring Kimimaro. "Why?"

"_Yes, why?" _Kimimaro thought.

Ino ignored that unspoken question. "Because you helped us. And because I can."

Silence stretched for a few moments. Dark smoke stacks rising from the still burning field obscured the breaking dawn on the horizon. Infected carrion, burned and mutilated, covered the charred earth as far as the eye could see. Kimimaro looked on as the blond shinobi seemed to weigh his options.

"Deidara," he said. "The name's Deidara, yeah."

"Deidara," Ino said. "Okay, let's take a look."

Deidara appeared to relax as Ino examined him with her medical chakra, but Kimimaro wasn't fooled. Every muscle in Deidara's body was tense and ready to move in an instant. He didn't blame the guy—in his position, he wouldn't trust a medic, either.

"You're out of chakra," Ino said after a few minutes. "And you're malnourished. When was the last time you ate anything?"

"Who's got time to eat when there are so many Infected just waiting to be bombed?"

The bitterness in his tone was not lost on Kimimaro, and he knew Ino picked up on it, too.

"_Can we talk?" _Ino communicated.

"Yeah," Kimimaro said aloud, earning a confused look from Deidara. "I'm right behind you."

Ino stood and brushed past him. Kimimaro shot Deidara one final hard look before turning to follow her out of earshot. Her back was to him when he caught up with her in a small clearing amidst dismembered appendages. He watched her for a moment, blonde ponytail fluttering in the early morning breeze.

"I think we should take him with us," she said.

"Absolutely not."

"What? Why the hell not?"

Kimimaro rolled his arm, cracking his shoulder joint. "I know I don't have to explain that much to you."

"I'm aware that it's a big risk. He's eccentric—"

"He's unstable," Kimimaro said. "Surely an ex interrogator can tell that much."

"I don't know about unstable, but he's definitely odd." Blue eyes held his, unwavering. "He's also incredibly strong. We'd be dead if he hadn't shown up."

Kimimaro was not about to argue with that; it was true. But that didn't mean he was ready to let Ino have her way. "That last bomb should have killed us. The only reason we're alive is because of me."

She frosted over and he wondered what she thought about his transformation. It had been a split second decision, and even though he'd known he'd regret it, their lives were more important.

"I know that," she said, guarded and unreadable. "But all the sensing capabilities in the world won't do us any good if we get cornered by a herd again. You know what will help? Deidara and his bombs."

"Ino, don't even—"

"Remember when you didn't want us to team up? You would be dead without me, too. Or did you forget about that?"

He took a step closer to her, the few inches of height difference working in his favor as he peered down at her. "I didn't forget."

She held his gaze, but the hard cut to her eyes faded. "Kimimaro, please. You know this makes sense."

"Give me one good reason to trust him."

"For the same reasons I've decided to trust you." Slowly, so that he could stop her, Ino raised her hand and touched his collar bone. Through the soiled shirt, he could feel the heat of her touch over his cursed seal. "Even though you keep your secrets."

There was so much left unsaid, so much they probably should have said in that moment, but she refrained from pushing it. He'd told her to forget about it, but it was only a matter of time before the truth came out. And when that time came, he told himself he would be ready to push her away and wander the world alone again. It wasn't as if they would be together forever.

But she was right. Only through their combined efforts could they escape the despicable fate befallen the warped bodies strewn at their feet.

"Fine."

A smile threatened to bloom on her face and her eyes softened, almost tender. For the life of him, he could not look away.

"Thank you," she said, letting her hand fall away from his chest.

He grabbed her wrist in a firm grip, waiting until he was certain he had her full attention. "Don't confuse my agreement with enthusiasm. I'll kill him before he gets the chance to betray us."

Calloused fingers curled around the hand he had on her wrist. She didn't try to pull away, but he could feel her elevated pulse belying her slight anxiety. Memories of the last time he'd had her in his grasp returned to him, and the thought left a bad taste in his mouth.

_She's afraid of me._

"I believe you," she said, calm and collected for all intents and purposes.

Kimimaro loosened his grip on her wrist and they broke contact. He gazed in the direction of where they'd left Deidara. He didn't like this turn of events, but for now he would bide his time. Better to dismantle a ticking time bomb than to wait for it to explode on its own.

"Let's just go."

* * *

So he wasn't alone, after all.

Deidara stared up at the lightening sky through curling smoke and heat, half lidded eyes betraying his exhaustion. Only minutes ago he'd felt the heavy weight of despair making him sink deeper into the earth, and he'd wondered what the point of fighting against it was. Why create a masterpiece if no one was left to admire it? Why continue to exist with no one to affirm it? But he wasn't alone, after all. A soft laugh trickled past his chapped lips at the thought.

_Just like that, yeah._

"Deidara," the girl, Ino, said as she kneeled down next to him again. "This might seem sudden, but I'm not going to beat around the bush. We want you to come with us."

Wincing with the flare of pain in his chest as he pushed up on one elbow, Deidara looked between Ino and the pale shinobi who had yet to identify himself. "Come with you where? You got someplace to be or something?"

"Anywhere but here," Ino said, reaching for his shoulder to help him balance.

Deidara flinched from her out of habit, but she wasn't offended.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

"Why should I tag along with you two? The last thing I want to do is babysit. I can take care of myself, yeah."

"I suppose that's why you recklessly set off a bomb that could have killed you along with all the Infected," the pale shinobi said.

"Listen, asshole," Deidara said, shooting him a scathing glare. "You saw what I'm capable of. You better not piss me off."

The unnamed shinobi took a threatening step forward and raised a flat palm before him. The sickening sound of flesh ripping and bone grinding reached Deidara's ears as the skin of his palm split and revealed a long bone sharpened to a wicked point.

_Well, that's a new one._

But Deidara wasn't impressed. "Nice trick. Is that how you were going to deal with the herd if I hadn't shown up?"

Before Deidara could even finish his sentence, the other shinobi was suddenly on top of him, the bone blade nestled over his heart as unfeeling, green eyes stared him down. "I'm happy to demonstrate for you."

Deidara swallowed, cursing his battered state. This guy was obviously a close range combatant, the worst kind of enemy for him without an aerial advantage. Still, he had to smirk at the thought. Maybe these two weren't a couple of run of the mill nobodies.

"Kimimaro," Ino said, closing a hand over the hilt of the bone blade.

"Kimimaro, huh? I think I'll just stick to 'asshole,' yeah."

Kimimaro didn't so much as bat an eyelash. He just continued to glare down at Deidara over his nose, unperturbed. It pissed him off a little. Threats of bodily harm or death did little for his nerves, but he hated those empty, haughty looks.

"Kimimaro," Ino said again. "Please..."

Kimimaro didn't look at her, but after a moment he withdrew in one swift motion and returned to looming over Deidara and Ino a couple steps away. The bone weapon remained clutched in his hand.

"Come with us," Ino said. "What've you got to lose?"

_Nothing, _Deidara thought to himself. _And so much to gain._

But they didn't need to know that.

"Have you met any other normal people?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"No. It's just us."

_Three is better than one any day._

"All right. I'll go with you, yeah."

Ino smiled a little, more relieved than happy if he had to guess. She reached a hand out to him, waiting for him to accept it. He did after a moment's hesitation and got to his feet with her help. When he stumbled, she was ready to catch him.

"You're pretty weak right now," she said, slinging his arm over her shoulder. "I'll help you walk. Does that sound okay?"

_No, _Deidara wanted to bite out. He hated being patronized more than anything. But the way she said it was inoffensive and congenial; she wasn't berating him. It helped that he probably could not walk more than a step or two on his own without toppling over. "...Yeah."

"Sorry about all the blood. It...kind of comes with the territory," she said.

Deidara glanced at the state of her clothing, black and sticky with Infected blood. Leaning his weight on her, he could almost feel it smearing against the blue of his long jacket.

"Whatever. I'm used to it."

"Kimimaro, can you toss me a power bar, please?"

Kimimaro scrutinized them before sheathing his bone blade in the belt of his pants. After rummaging around within a rucksack for several moments, he retrieved a wrapped snack. Instead of handing it to Ino, he marched right up to Deidara and shoved the food against his chest.

"Don't fall behind," he said in that same icy tone as before.

With one final glance at Ino, he turned to lead the march out of the wasteland just as the sun was breaching the horizon. Ino plucked the power bar from Deidara's hand and unwrapped it.

"He's a real treasure, yeah."

"You should eat. Don't mind him, it's just his nature."

Deidara stole a glance at the girl supporting him and caught a smirk teasing her lips despite her serious tone. Maybe it was the surge of adrenaline striking as he felt himself take a few steps with her. Maybe it was just another familiar caress of madness he felt every so often. Whatever the reason, he found himself wanting to smile a little, too.

He bit off a hearty chunk of the bland power bar, watching Kimimaro's back as they slowly but surely made their way toward the rising sun.

_And then there were three._

* * *

_Now the fun really begins! Thanks to everyone who's been reviewing. You guys are the best. :)_


	6. Uneasy Coexistence

Oasis, chapter 6: Uneasy Coexistence

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

* * *

When Deidara's feet had begun to feel too big for his shoes, he knew they'd been walking a _very _long while. The afternoon sun drew moisture from his back, and the heated friction made the long jacket he wore feel uncomfortably snug against his skin. With only the thinning grasses and hardly any trees to speak of, there was nothing standing in the way of the elements. He wiped his brow with a palm, grimacing at the taste of salt and grime upon the small lips there. The knuckles of his other hand kneaded invisible clay, and the fruitless movement only made him more restless. Perhaps sacrificing that dragon had not been his brightest idea, in retrospect. At the very least, he could have salvaged a handful or two of clay.

"So what's with you?" he asked Kimimaro, who maintained a respectable distance several feet to the right.

"Excuse me?"

"I mean, what's your deal? Why're you so gloomy and weird? You'd think it's the end of the world or something, yeah."

Between them, Ino cast Deidara a warning glance, which he ignored. Trudging through an endless sea of grass without so much as an infected squirrel in sight, Deidara was not about to abide this silent death march any longer.

Kimimaro did not even nod in acknowledgment. "It _is_ the end of the world."

Deidara clenched the fist that had been busy molding the clay he wished he had. "You really are an asshole."

_Not even a little effort, huh? He's worse than Sasori was._

Kimimaro had nothing to say to that, and the silence was deafening until Ino decided to intervene, as she always did.

"You know, I actually wanted to ask how you even made that dragon back there," Ino said, leaning forward just enough to catch Deidara's eye. "Seems like a big feat for one person."

Deidara smirked, previous annoyance forgotten. "Maybe for any _other _person, but not for me. What kind of artist would I be if I couldn't even make proper mediums?"

There was a pause as Ino processed this new information. "So it's not the sculpture itself, but the explosion it makes. That's your art?"

The smirk widened into a proper grin. "Aren't you sharp."

"What kind of a lunatic thinks an explosion is art?" Kimimaro said, his eyes still icy despite the sweltering heat.

Deidara's good mood left him with Ino's tired sigh. "Hey, you got something to say about my style? Like you're some great artist yourself, yeah."

"I don't need to be an artist to understand something so basic: all bombs do is destroy; art is creation."

"That so?" Never one to pass up an opportunity to educate others in the highest expression of beauty, Deidara felt his blood boil from something other than the hot sun. "See, that's how I know you're full of shit. You don't know the first thing about art."

"And I suppose you're going to illuminate me."

"If you _insist, _yeah. You think destruction isn't art, but it's the _epitome _of art in action. Real art doesn't sit still and wait for those Infected to bring the show; it _is _the show. You think I'm not creating anything? Destruction is creation! The _explosion_ is art, just like Ino said. At least one of you's got an appreciation for culture."

Ino watched him with an unreadable expression, but she offered no commentary on the matter.

Kimimaro waved him off. "Just as I thought."

"Thought what?"

"You disguise mass arson as 'art' because you're avoiding the hard truth—that it's just another execution. It's an illusion, but it keeps you from going off the deep end completely."

"How 'bout I give you a front row demonstration of my brand of sanity?" Deidara brandished a fist at Kimimaro as if to prove his valor.

Ino closed a firm hand around Deidara's wrist.

"_You're falling into his trap. Just let it go. I'm not letting you two fight in this condition."_

The voice in his head sounded at once faraway and close, like an echo through a tunnel. It was such an odd experience that he didn't react to her cautionary touch. Ino held his gaze momentarily before releasing him. The ghostly echo dissipated as well, and silence reigned once more.

So she was a mind reader. Okay. He'd seen creepier in his day. As long as Kimimaro wasn't immortal like Hidan, they'd have no problems. Then again, Hidan was long gone, done in by some punks from Konoha. Deidara wondered how the Jashinist would have taken to this world and decided Hidan would have found it just as bleak. Deidara was never a particularly religious person, but he could understand the fervor of a zealot in converting the unbelievers to his god. Better than most, perhaps.

But someone like Kimimaro, he suspected, was _above _all that. He was as godless as they came, if Deidara had to take a guess. At least Sasori had had vision and purpose to fill the empty shell he paraded around playing at human. This kid seemed to have no higher ideals of which to speak, simply putting one foot in front of the other toward some unknown and uncaring destination, perhaps as uninterested in death as he clearly was in life. Either Kimimaro had never had the good fortune to stumble upon his own incarnation of art, or he'd lost it somewhere along the way.

Finding out, Deidara decided, would be a less boring way to pass the time. If they were the only three people left, he supposed he ought to make the best of his private audience. He wasn't letting them go so easily.

"Why are you laughing?"

Ino's question drew Deidara out of his thoughts, and he realized that he was chuckling to himself. Sasori used to tell him how inconceivable a thing inadvertent laughter was. A sign of mania, he'd said, not of some deep-seated intellectual prowess. They disagreed on most things.

"Just plotting and scheming, y'know, the usual."

There was that unreadable look again, he thought as Ino gave him a once-over too quick and casual to appear suspicious but that Deidara could remember getting in his old life enough to recognize it. His earlier assessment of her rang in his memory like a bell tolling for trouble ahead—she was smart, and she picked up on things she had no business noticing. It reminded Deidara that he knew next to nothing of his new companions, and they nothing of him. At least, he assumed the latter to be the case since no one had made any self-righteous proclamations of honor and heroism in the name of slaying the last Akatsuki.

His lack of notoriety was depressing, but in this case Deidara counted it as something of a blessing. If it turned out that either Ino or Kimimaro was a ninja from one of the former Hidden Villages with some shred of a conscience still intact, things could get awkward.

"Speaking of plotting," Ino said, interrupting his thoughts once more. "What are you going to do about your clay? You're out, right?"

Kimimaro spared them a glance, suddenly interested in this conversation. "Yeah, what good are you to us without it?"

"Listen man, _I_ make the art, not the other way around," Deidara said. "And if you _have _to know, I don't need clay to fight. I just prefer it, yeah."

"So where can we get more?" Ino asked. "Can you make it?"

At this, Deidara frowned. "Not exactly. There's a mine in Earth Country with natural deposits. I'd have to go there."

"Why don't you just use another medium, like rocks or kunai," Kimimaro said, as though this solution were obvious.

"Because my chakra's _explosive. _I can't infuse it in just any old thing. It's gotta be the clay or nothing, yeah."

"Sounds like you just want to blow more things up instead of prioritizing our survival."

"How far is this mine?" Ino asked, ignoring Kimimaro's baiting.

Deidara considered punching Kimimaro but refrained. Ino wouldn't be happy about it, he could tell, and he wasn't at full capacity. No sense in starting something he couldn't finish. "From Grass Country…maybe a two-week journey on foot."

"Nasu."

Ino and Deidara both turned their attention to their unpleasant travelling partner, and Deidara could not understand what on earth he was on about now.

"What?"

Kimimaro pointed ahead. "That's Nasu, the capital of the Land of Vegetables. We're nearing the border."

Deidara squinted at the horizon, and sure enough he could make out the unnatural, looming shapes of manmade buildings in the distance shimmering with heat. The sea of coarse grass bled yellow up ahead with wildflowers. Deidara had been to the Land of Vegetables once before on Akatsuki business.

"_Like flying over sunshine," _he'd told Sasori as they'd soared over the endless gold below.

Sasori, who'd violently disdained flowers and all they represented, had not been impressed, to say the least. "_Like flying over a sea of death in slow motion."_

Right now, Deidara wasn't sure which of them was right. He and his new companions could be walking to their doom and not even know it.

"You've been here before?" Ino asked Kimimaro.

"…A few times. It's a civilian settlement, so shinobi rarely venture out here."

"Unless they have business with the black market underground, yeah," Deidara said.

He got no response, and he wondered whose silence was more telling—Ino's or Kimimaro's.

_The plot thickens._

"We can recover there," Kimimaro said with an air of finality.

"And maybe get some new clothes," Ino said, indicating her soiled shirtfront with conspicuous disgust.

"And beds," Deidara added for good measure. "I'm sick of sleeping on the ground."

With a spring in their steps now that they had a new, realizable goal in mind, the three companions closed in on the beacon of civilization perhaps not entirely forgotten.

* * *

Buildings taller than any Ino had ever seen stretched skyward, reaching for an invisible heaven she didn't think existed. Pausing a moment to admire their race frozen in time, she wondered at the feats of man. How could the same people that defied gravity with their vision of progress fall to the Infection? Doubt dug its rancid claws into her, and she rubbed her arms for warmth despite the heat of the late afternoon. Screams rang in her ears, and she nearly turned around expecting to see Hinata, blood welling in those pretty, pale eyes as the rest of her pretty, pale body was ripped to shreds by too many Infected.

A hand on Ino's shoulder made her jump.

"Whoa, hey, you okay?" Deidara asked, giving her a weird look.

Ino swallowed, suppressing the horrible memory and nodding. "Fine, just thinking."

"Ino, do a scan. I'd rather not have any surprise guests today," Kimimaro said, brushing by them.

"Yeah," Ino said, initiating the familiar technique. After a few moments, she opened her eyes. "There's no one here."

_We're alone._

It was comforting and miserable. Maybe they really were the only ones left if even a city as sprawling as this was just a ghost town now.

"Good. We need shelter and food. And new clothes," Kimimaro said, already taking off down what appeared to be the main street leading to downtown.

"Food first, yeah," Deidara said, falling into step.

"I guess I'm the only one who would prefer a shower first," Ino said, shaking her head.

"Speak for yourself," Deidara said. "Blood's a good color for me."

Despite herself, Ino had to laugh. Deidara just stared at her, but she paid him no mind. "Well, if it looks good on you, then it looks good on me, too," she said, winking.

It was Deidara's turn to chuckle. "I won't argue with that, yeah. Can't say the same for Bones over there."

Kimimaro, of course, did not rise to the bait. But Ino didn't mind. In the end, they decided to chow down on granola bars until they could clean up and procure proper food. Ino was delighted to be clean again, of course, and Deidara was delighted at the prospect of home cooking.

"I'm going to look for rooms that aren't trashed," Kimimaro said when they reconvened in the lobby of a hotel where they'd taken their showers and changed into the last spare clothing they had—pajamas for Ino. "You two find food."

"Don't you want to get some new clothes? You've gone through more shirts than Infected since I've known you," Ino said, smiling a little.

Kimimaro held her gaze for a moment, and Ino suddenly wondered what he was thinking. She had an idea, since it was all she'd been trying to avoid dwelling on for the past couple of days, but so far nothing had come of it. Ino was patient, and when he was ready to give her some answers, she'd be ready with questions.

"…Just get me whatever. You can guess my size by now, I'm sure." He turned toward the key rack and began gathering the ones still there.

Deidara snorted, but Kimimaro ignored him and disappeared up the stairs. "I'd say that was his way of being intimate, but I think the only thing that guy's ever been intimate with is his left hand."

Ino rolled her eyes. "Don't be crass. Kimimaro's not like that."

Deidara followed her outside the hotel, which was a good twenty stories in the middle of downtown. "He's a dude and a shinobi. We'd marry our left hands if we could since there aren't usually better prospects in our line of work, yeah."

She wanted to fight the grin but decided not to—why bother? Deidara was funny when he wanted to be, and laughing a little at Kimimaro's expense wasn't the worst crime she'd ever committed. "Thanks. Now I won't be able to look at him the same way again."

"Shouldn't be looking at him at all, if you ask me. He's just like a guy I used to know, all pretty-faced and heartless. Real lady-killer, yeah."

Ino suspected he was being literal but decided not to ask. She'd known plenty of those types, too. They made their way down the deserted main street, weathered stone buildings looming over them, watchful. For a place hailed as a farming capital of the continent, there was nothing natural or picturesque about this place. It was all glass, stone, and steel, so different from the dwellings she'd grown up with. Ino had always wanted to visit the civilian settlements when she was younger, excited about new environments and cultures, not to mention the exotic clothing and foods that surely filled them. But not like this. Not when she felt the need to tiptoe through what she imagined was once a bustling metropolis filled with life and laughter. It didn't even smell like a city. There was nothing but dust, a relic of something that once was great but no longer.

"Hey, over here," Deidara said, ducking into a store without waiting.

"Wait up!" Ino called, following after him. Inside was something that made her jaw drop. The largest and most diverse selection of clothing, everything from swimsuits to ball gowns filled the spacious interior. Stairs in the back suggested another level above with even more wares. For the life of her, Ino could not move.

"Hello?" Deidara waved a hand in front of her face, the tongue on his palm waggling at her.

"Oh!" Ino brought a hand to her mouth, not having expected something quite like _that. _"Is that a _mouth _on your hand?"

Deidara frowned and looked at his hand, as though to confirm as much. "Yeah. That's how I make my magic."

_Well, I suppose we've all got our quirks._

"You coming or what? And you better not take all night. I'm hungry, yeah," Deidara said, walking deeper into the interior.

She smiled. "I guess I definitely can't argue with your perfect marriage to your left hand anymore."

Deidara burst out laughing from his spot halfway up the stairs, and Ino felt a true smile give way to her own giggles. She'd missed this. It felt so good to hear the sound of another person's laughter, and the whole time they were browsing the clothing selection she had to tell herself not to cry, lest he mistake her tears for despair.

* * *

Kimimaro was relieved to be rid of his travelling companions for the time being. While he wanted to keep them close, he couldn't deny that it was sometimes hard to think and reflect with them around. Considering all the major changes that had taken place recently, he was long overdue for alone time.

Most of the rooms on the lower floors were trashed, as to be expected, and he didn't want to bother with the doors for which he didn't have keys. Breaking down the door seemed uncivil somehow, and the idea of sleeping without at least a door between Deidara and himself was appalling.

Old blood chunky with what he suspected was brain matter smeared the walls of the fifth floor hallway. Kimimaro quietly decided not to bother with the lower floors at all and start from the top. The twentieth floor was just one big room, although he could not imagine the use of such large quarters. But the interior was clean and untouched. A grand king-size bed sat overlooking a view of the city, which was magnificent if he was being honest. Looking down at the street below, he wondered where Ino and Deidara had gotten to and if Ino was serious about having a flair for cooking. They'd find out soon enough, so there was no point in thinking about it.

A door led to a separate bedroom with a smaller queen-size bed, also untouched. The marble bathroom was grander than any Kimimaro had ever used before, and he had to take a minute to examine the different travel-size bottles provided by the hotel, wondering what on earth the difference between hand lotion and body lotion could be. He suspected Ino would have more insight into this part of the room and left it at that.

Thoughts of his blonde companion tempted a frown upon his usual façade. She was waiting for him to come forward, he figured. There'd been a couple of opportunities for her to broach the subject of his Cursed Seal of Earth on the road when they had a moment alone. She could communicate telepathically, so she could have chosen a moment even in broad daylight to raise the issue. But she'd refrained thus far, and as much as Kimimaro didn't want to admit it, he appreciated her patience as he tried to gather his thoughts and figure out what to say to her.

Kimimaro prodded the king-size bed with a tentative hand, suspecting it to be too soft for his tastes. He needed Ino, that much was more than obvious at this point, and she needed him. Deidara was still a matter of debate, and Kimimaro knew he could have made a last-ditch effort in the event that the mad bomber hadn't shown up when he did back at the burning field. But that was neither here nor there. Deidara was with them now, and if he crossed them Kimimaro had already decided he would personally address the issue.

What Ino thought was what bothered him the most despite his best efforts. As the light of day slowly slipped away and left the room to shadows, Kimimaro wondered about it all. What did she think about his clear association with Orochimaru? Would he have to explain everything now? Did he even have the words to do so? He wasn't sure, but he knew putting it off for much longer would only lead to a confrontation, and he needed her cooperation.

For now, though, he had more pressing matters to deal with, like how they were going to resolve three people with two beds. There was no way he was giving up a bed for Deidara, but he didn't think Deidara would do so for him, either. And that left Ino, who most certainly would not sleep on the couch without a fight.

_It's the end of the world and I'm worrying about this._

Kimimaro rubbed his temples to ease an oncoming headache.

* * *

"So? What do you think?"

"I think you look menacing with that wooden spoon in your hand, yeah."

Ino rolled her eyes but put the spoon back in the pot. Dinner was nothing too special—turkey stew she'd convinced the boys to wait for if they wanted something better than dehydrated fruit and jerky for once. The hotel's kitchen had survived the Infected, it seemed, and Ino had quite the arsenal of cookware at her disposal. Delighted to be doing something she liked, something _normal, _she got lost in the process and didn't even realize the time slipping by until Kimimaro had to tell her to hurry up.

"It's good," Kimimaro said, looking up from his bowl only briefly in between bites.

Ino didn't fight the smug smile at his approval. "Just good?"

"This is awesome," Deidara said, lifting his own bowl to his mouth to finish off the broth. "I'll take more, yeah."

Ino just laughed, unfazed by his manners. "Great, and you can feel free to help me clean up after, you know."

Tomorrow she wanted to do something a little more complicated, she decided. Ino was a good cook, better than the other girls in her year had been, and she liked it. She couldn't remember the last time she'd cooked anything properly since the outbreak, and tonight felt like an accomplishment more meaningful than any number of Infected she took out. Just seeing their faces light up in anticipation of food she prepared was enough.

"We'll rest here for awhile," Kimimaro announced as they made their way back upstairs to what Ino had informed his was the penthouse room. "Ino, you can cook again while we're here."

She smirked. It was the most she'd get out of him, most likely, but it was enough. "Sure."

"Now that's what I'm talking about, yeah," Deidara said once they stepped into the room and Kimimaro closed the door behind them. Kicking off his shoes, Deidara went to the king-size bed and was about to flop down on it when a firm hand yanked him back.

"Your bed is through there," Kimimaro said, indicating the open door to the smaller bedroom.

Deidara pulled his hand away and took advantage of the couple inches in height he had over Kimimaro. "What's wrong with this bed, hm? You got some kinda claim over it?"

"Yes."

Ino was not in the mood to spoil the good atmosphere they'd developed over dinner, however tenuous. Reaching for both their wrists, she waited until she had everyone's attention.

"There are two beds, so it's the same thing anyway," she said. "Come on, guys, don't fight over something like this."

"Where are you gonna sleep? The floor?" Deidara asked.

"Ino will sleep here," Kimimaro said, prying her fingers away from his hand and moving to the opposite side of the wide bed.

She thought he was kidding for a moment until she remember that Kimimaro was not the type to joke about anything at all. It was no big deal—they'd shared a bed before without a fuss—but the way he said it as though his word was law threw her. Deidara shot her a knowing look that said 'I told you so'.

"Well, don't let me interrupt, yeah," Deidara said, slipping out of Ino's grip and heading for the other bedroom. "And watch out for that left hand."

Ino thought about telling him off but decided it wasn't worth it. Instead, once she was alone with Kimimaro she put her hands on her hips. "Want to tell me what that's all about?"

"You wouldn't have agreed to sleep on the floor."

He was so guileless that she couldn't even think of what to say to that. So she just sighed and trudged to the bathroom. He wouldn't explain something he found useless, anyway, and she knew there was nothing to read into. Not with Kimimaro.

Under the sheets with only the slim light of the moon to keep them company, Ino and Kimimaro lay still and silent in the lavish bed with two bodies worth of space between them. Her body ached for proper rest but her mind was having none of it. It was another one of those situations in which they were alone, a perfect opportunity to broach the issues filling her with doubt about him and this partnership and their survival, but she didn't know where to begin.

_So you used to work for Konoha's public enemy number one?_

Right. That would go over _so _well. Perhaps a different approach then, since Kimimaro seemed unwilling to say anything even though Ino knew he was awake.

"You know," she said softly, "your illness may be curable."

Silence stretched for a long time, and Ino thought for sure he would not respond or worse, react with hostility like the last time she'd mentioned it.

"...Why do you say that?"

She turned her head to look at him, but through the gloom it was hard to make out the expression on his face. "When I eased your cough after we fought Hidan, I got a look at your lungs. I'm not the most stellar medic in the world, but I think there's something I could do."

"I won't indulge your false hope."

He sounded tired, as though this was something he'd had to recite over and over. She wondered if that was the case, and it made her inexplicably sad.

"I'm not a great medic, but I'm pretty good with botany. What you have is a little different from what I've seen before so I can't guarantee it'll work, but it's worth a shot. I can make you a medicine that should help."

It was a physical struggle not to invade his thoughts right then. She'd gotten the uncanny feeling he was waiting for death, marching to the ends of the earth in search of it like that night when they'd first met, and she didn't know if he would be happy about this news. But Ino had had enough time to think about what she'd learned examining him, and she was certain there must be something she could do for him. There was no sense in not trying, but it depended on Kimimaro.

"I told you to forget about all this," he said.

"I know. But I can't just watch as you slowly die right in front of me without even putting up a fight."

Kimimaro sighed and turned his head to face her through the darkness. "Not even Yakushi Kabuto was able to cure me in the end."

_Yakushi Kabuto._

That name said so much. Ino felt her heart rate speed up just thinking about the twisted medic she'd met long ago during the Chuunin exams. He was Orochimaru's right-hand man, and this new information only confirmed what she'd suspected—Kimimaro had once been associated with the snake Sannin. Common sense and old habits told her that sleeping with the enemy was a bad move, but he didn't lash out like the last time she'd intruded on his secrets. What did that mean? Did he trust her?

"_Give me one good reason to trust him."_

"_For the same reasons I've decided to trust you."_

Did she trust _him,_ truly? What choice did she have? If Kimimaro and Deidara were all that was left of this broken world, how could she stand by and let them slip away? The thought of being alone again with only the terrors of the night to keep her company was the worst fate imaginable.

Slowly, so that he could pull away if he wanted to, Ino scooted across the bed and reached for Kimimaro's hand. His skin was cold to the touch, so she pressed his hand between both her palms, entwining their fingers. All the while he didn't so much as twitch.

"I don't give up very easily," she said.

She thought he would push her away for invading his personal space like this, but he didn't. There were still so many questions left unanswered—why he'd worked with Orochimaru and Kabuto; why he was sick to begin with; how and why he'd escaped Sound. But they had all the time in the world. If they were the only ones left, she would ensure that no number of Infected came between them and Deidara.

_And Deidara. We're three._

"Goodnight, Ino."

For the second time that day, Ino was unable to stop a real smile from spreading across her face even as turned his head away. "Goodnight, Kimimaro."

She didn't let go of his hand all night.


End file.
